The Boy In The Belfry (First chapter rewritten)
by MissTinfoilHat
Summary: Dazai is found face-down on the sidewalk in front of an old run-down church in a pool of his own blood, seeminly after a jump from the bell tower. Bearly alive, he's rushed to the hospital where he slips into a coma. The ADA made the assumtion that he jumped, but everything might not be as it seems. (More readers on ao3, but I will keep updating for the readers on here too) :-)
1. Chapter 1

**The title is from the song In Liverpool by Suzanne Vega.**

**I'm completely new to this fandom, so I might get facts wrong and I still have A LOT to learn bout the story-line. Hopefully, you will all enjoy this story in spite of this, and I try to do as much research I can as I move along. I re-wrote this first chapter because I wasn't satisfied with it. If I get Kunikida's name wrong a couple of times, please bear with me. It almost became a running joke as I wrote this, some of the names I gave him started to sound more like Pokèmon.**

**In liverpool  
on a sunday  
No traffic  
on the avenue**

**The light is pale and thin  
like you  
No sound down  
in this part of town**

**Except for the boy in the belfry- he's crazy  
he's throwing himself down from the top of the tower  
like a hunchback in heaven he's ringing the bells in the church for the last half an hour  
he sounds like he's missing something- or someone- that he knows he can't have now  
and if he isn't  
I surtainly am.  
**

**In Liverpool by Suzanne Vega**

* * *

The blood was pooling out from underneath the lean body sprawled face down on the pavement of the usually busy street. During the daylight, that is. At night, however, there was hardly a soul that wanted to walk the street where this old church stood. It hovered over the Nabor houses and looked menacing in the shadows of the dim light of the street lamps along the pavement. Its grey facade was cracked from ages of neglected maintenance.

It took several hours for the body to be discovered by a by-passer on his way to work. The earliest blood had dried onto the sidewalk, staining it with its dark red color as the body was lifted into an ambulance 10 minutes later and rushed to the hospital.

Kunikida's phone at the Armed Detective Agency rung, disturbing the bespeckled man from his routine report writing.

«Doppo Kunikida,» he answered with a somewhat annoyed voice. He didn't much appreciate his routines being disturbed by anything unexpected. After a couple of seconds of listening to what was being said from the other end, he seemed to deflate, gaining some curious stares from the rest of the office.

«What's the prognosis? (...) Understand. We'll be right over,» he said, as he cut the call.

«Is something wrong?» Atsushi asked from his seat at one of the desks. Kunikida closed his eyes grimly while crossing his arms and clearing his voice to gather everyone's attention.

«Listen up. That was from the hospital. Dazai was found this morning on the sidewalk in front of the Shinja church. It looked like he suffered a fall from the belfry,» he informed the rest of the group. «That fool is in surgery right now. They don't know if he'll pull through.»

A simultaneous gasp was heard across the room.

«I'm going to the hospital now, is anyone else coming with?» he asked. The entire group got up, looking at each other with worried faces.

«Well, let's go.»

There was nothing unusual about Dazai not showing up for work on time. There was nothing unusual about him disappearing for days on end either, telling no one about his whereabouts. Sometimes he would come back fine, other times he'd show up with his arm in a sling or on crutches. What never changed, however, was him pretending like nothing ever happened, and they had stopped asking.

There was no reason Kunikida would expect this particular Monday to be any different.

In about fifteen minutes, everyone was gathered in the waiting room at the hospital. Kunukida hadn't released his arms since the phone call. He cursed his idiot partner and his obsession with death. He knew it was a matter of time before he was able to find the perfect way to go, but this wasn't the time. There was too much for them to do still.

They waited in silence. Even the president of the ADA, Fukuzawa, was there. It was no secret that Dazai was suicidal, but if everyone in the group took it seriously, was a different question. After some of the secrets of Dazai's mysterious past had been revealed, little by little, throughout the last couple of years, any doubt Kunikida had, had vanished completely. Dazai wanted to die, and this time, and this time it actually seemed like he might succeed.

After many hours of waiting, a doctor came out to meet with them. He explained with a grim expression that Dazai had slipped into a coma and that they had no idea when or if he would wake up. His injuries were severe, with several bones broken, internal bleeding and severe head trauma. That was just what Kunikida could comprehend, as the doctor used many intricate medical terms unknown to him about Dazai's lungs and heart and whatever. He had heard what he needed to hear anyway. Dazai was alive and needed to stay that way.

* * *

«Kunikida-kun?» Atsushi asked carefully, breaching the silence in the car. Kouyou and himself were seated in the back, while Kunikida was driving. Kunikida growled something inaudible back, not taking his eyes off the road.

«Do... do you think he did it on purpose?» he asked with a shaky voice.

«Of course he did, that stupid bastard,» Kunikida answered doggedly.

Atsushi's face turned into a hurt grimace and Kouyou placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

«I'm sure he'll be okay,» she tried to smile, but couldn't quite make her high-pitched voice steady enough to sound convincing.

«I hope you're right,» Atsushi mumbled, looking out the window, as the car turned onto the street of where the Shinja Church stood. The area had already been cleaned. The only reminder of what had happened the night before was the dried blood covering the sidewalk that not even the pure force of the pressure washers could flush away.

Kunikida parked his car along the cracked pavement.

«I don't expect you to come with, but I want to take a look,» he said, voice dark and sturdy as ever.

Atsushi peered out the window, only now discovering the faded spot a couple of feet from them. His instant reaction was to gasp and he shakes his head furiously, but Kouyou was already out the door. Hesitantly, Atsushi followed.

Hands in pocket, Kunikida investigated the area, while Kouyou looked around the run-down church. Atsushi kept in the background, nervously crossing his arms and hoping they would be done soon.

After a short while, they seemed to be done. There wasn't much to be found anyway, as the police had already cleaned up any sign (that they could) from the failed suicide attempt.

* * *

In spite of the narrow margins, Dazai woke up five days later. The hospital once again called the ADA, requesting them to come immediately. Everyone had been worried sick about the state of the office's biggest annoyance's health and arrived at the hospital shortly after the call, where the same doctor as before greeted them.

He explained, clearly with a touch of «this is every day for me», about Dazai's current condition.

His back was broken, and his left leg and several ribs. He had a cracked skull and several lacerations on his body. The doctor made a backhand comment about nasty and badly treated old scars as well, which Kunikida had to admit that he did not entirely understand. Lastly, he informed them that Dazai was on suicide watch, which Kunikida knew his partner was very much accustomed to.

After his report, he let them know that they could finally see the brown-haired man, but only two at the time at most, as Dazai needed to rest. The natural order of things was for Kunikida and Atsushi to go in first.

As they entered the room, it struck Kunikida how bad the situation seemed to be. A heart monitor was beeping steadily, and Dazai's lean form was lying limply in the hospital bed, surrounded by wires and machines to make sure he wouldn't, in spite his best efforts, die. His body was even more mummified with bandages than it usually was, covering his head and arms, which were the only parts not covered by the light blanket, except for his leg that was raised on a rack with screws sticking out from the bandages after surgery to try and repair the damages. The doctor had told Kunikida that there was no assurance that it would ever regain full functionality, because of the severity of the injury. The best-case-scenario was that he would walk with a limp throughout his life.

«How are you feeling?» Atsushi asked, hurrying to Dazai's bedside.

«I'm good,» Dazai answered, revealing his usual smile, unaffected by any type of severity of the situation.

«I thought you were done with jumping off buildings after the last time, tho, a church sounds a bit more poetic than a shopping mall,» Kunikida said flatly.

«Huh?» Atsushi asked, clearly not aware of the details of Dazai's many previous suicide attempts.

«You broke nearly every bone in your body, not much unlike now,» Kunikida added.

«Oh, yeah,» Dazai reminisced. «That wasn't any fun. There are definitely better and more creative ways to end your life,» Dazai answered, trying to conceal the pain in his hoarse voice.

«You have to stop doing this shit. You almost made it this time.»

«Yeah, too bad,» Dazai frowned. «...Except, I didn't jump.»

«Jumped, leaped, whatever,» Kunikida mumbled, crossing his arms angrily.

«No,» Dazai's voice was nearly more than a whisper.

«I didn't _jump_.»

This time, it was Kunikida's turn to be be surprised. Not for a moment, had anyone expected this to be more than another failed suicide attempt. Almost unknowingly, Kunikida took out his notebook, ready to write down any details Dazai could reveal.

«What happened?» he asked, dragging one of the chairs that were placed against the wall to Dazai's bedside. Atsushi followed his lead, sitting back-to-front on the chair and resting his arms on the back.

«I didn't jump off. I got a letter, telling me to meet someone at the top of the bell tower. So I did, I was curious.» he explained in his plain voice as if he was telling them what he had for dinner the day before.

«Who?» Kunikida asked while scribbling notes in his book.

«No idea. I got there, waited, and the next thing I knew, something whacked me over the head, and I fell,» his shoulders shrugged. «Then I woke up in here.»

«Who would do such a thing to you?» Atsushi asked with concern in his voice.

«Who wouldn't?» Kunikida and Dazai replied simultaneously.

Kunikida scowled at Danai, as Dazai revealed an amused smile.

«I have a lot of enemies,» he explained with a sheepish grin, not at all affected by the situation. This was no surprise to Kunikida, but Atsushi seemed more bothered.

«You could have died, Dazai-san!»

«Yeah,» Dazai pouted with a sigh, staring dreamily at the roof.

«What the hell happened?» Kunikida raised his voice angrily, hitting his fist onto Dazai's bed.

Dazai flinched at the movement of the bed but tried not to show it. He knew that Kunikida or anyone else in the agency would never understand his need to die. If they only knew about his inability to feel any kind of real emotion truly, maybe they would.

His zest for life had been beaten out of him many years ago. The mafia had turned him into a human weapon. Unfeeling and indifferent. Actually, he was much more intrigued by death than life. His heart was so empty and hollow, no matter how much he tried to fill it with anything, love or pain, it seemed to be eaten up by the darkness of his past. That was the main reason he left the mafia and joined the ADA in the first place. The hope of feeling something real again.

_That, and of course Oda._

The pain from his injuries didn't matter. He was sure he had felt much worse before. He didn't like pain, but also, he really didn't care. At this point, his body and soul were completely numb. All he wanted to do was protect the once close to him and make sure that they couldn't be hurt like him. His friends from the agency, as well as some of the people from the mafia. Many of them had even hurt him in the past. He was sure they had their reasons. He was just too lazy to remember them.

Also, whatever the reason that particular person fromthe belfry had to push him off the tower, didn't matter. Any kind of reasoning, he was sure was justified.

He was a monster, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Returning to the office after the hospital visit, the ADA returned to work. They were all a bit puzzled. Dazai seemed down, and they all knew that he was hiding something. But, also knowing Dazai, they would never get to the bottom of it unless he wanted them to. It wasn't like he wasn't already hiding almost every detail of his life, and had been able to keep his past in the Port Mafia secret for many years. Only that, was proof enough. All though, Kunikida couldn't help but feel that something was different this time. Dazai wasn't as good an actor as he thought he was.

He was determined to get to the bottom of it, and with that in mind, he left his desk to visit Fukuzawa at his office. He knocked three times and opened the door as a voice told him to come in.

«President,» Kunikida greeted. «May I have a minute of your time?»

«Of course, Kunikida. What's on your mind?»_ He already knew._

«It's Dazai, sir.»

Fukuzawa nodded confirmingly.

«I think something is seriously wrong, and I have a bad feeling about it,» Kunikida explained to the older man.

«I agree. Unfortunately, we all know Dazai. He won't reveal anything he doesn't want to.»

«I am completely aware of that. There's just something different this time, I can feel it.»

Fukuzawa went silent. He felt it too. There were a couple of things he knew about Dazai that worried him greatly, not known to the rest of the group. He sighed.

«I will have a word with him in private,» he finally decided.

«I appreciate that sir, and may I be as bold to add- _the sooner the better_.»

* * *

At the hospital, Dazai had just been forced to take pain killers. He hated being medicated. He hated the way it made him feel- sleepy, dizzy,_ honest_. He was getting them intravenously now, as he had been caught hiding the pills under his tongue. Even though he had explained that he hadn't tried to kill himself this time, he was still on suicide watch. They had assumed that he was hiding it for later to make himself overdose on them.

This was all_ so annoying_. He slumped to back in the bed, wincing as he realized that the movement wasn't doing his back pain any services.

He was determined to get out of the hospital as fast as he possibly could. He had a lot of things to deal with right now, and being cooped up in a hospital bed, constantly under observation, wouldn't allow him to do what needed to be done. So, _he decided to do what he did best_.

«Yo, double-chin!» he spoke loudly at his guard, honestly not remembering his name. '_That's what they get for drugging me_', he reasoned in his mind.

«What, noodles?» he snarled back.

Dazai's nose twitched at the snap-back.

«Careful with the mean nicknames meatball. You might make me wanna kill myself,» he deadpanned.

The large man snorted, folding his arms in dissatisfaction.

«Did you know that flamingos can only eat with their heads upside down?» Dazai asked, tilting his head.

His guard raised his eyebrows. «Are you okay?» he asked.

«Also, Greece's national anthem has 158 verses.»

«You're high... I'm gonna ask them to cut down on the morphine...»

«..._and I know all of them_. Wanna hear?»

«God no...»

«_I do know thee by the direful_...» he started singing.

«Don't you dare...»

«_cutting edge of thy keen swooord..._»

* * *

Fukuzawa stood behind the door of Dazai's hospital room. Loud wimping was heard, and someone was clearly in a great amount of pain. If Dazai was reacting this way to his injuries, it must be even more serious than he had thought.

Hesitantly he opened the door.

«_Someone wondering might query; Art thou sister to His ireee_!»

«D-Dazai?» Fukuzawa stood dumbfounded.

«No! Noooo! Make it stop! It's like a drowning cat, I can't take anymore!» A bald man with a big gut was kneeling on the floor, clutching his hands to his ears.

«I still have 57 verses left!» Dazai complained with a frown and took a deep breath before he was about to continue.

«I think that's quite enough!» Fukuzawa stated firmly. «We're okay. You can take a break,» he added, referring to the suffering man on the floor.

«T-thank you!» he exclaimed and scrambled to get out of the door as fast as he could.

Fukuzawa concentrated his attention back to Dazai, who was smiling and twinging his fingers innocently.

«You are staying here for as long as the doctors tell you to,» Fukuzawa said unyieldingly. Dazai looked unfaced, crossing his arm and pointing his nose in the air.

«I know. I'm just entertaining myself to make my stay a little shorter... and a little bit longer for everyone else,» he added. Fukuzawa had to smile at the childish antics of the injured man and made his way to sit by his bed.

«You know, everyone is worried about you.»

Dazai looked conflicted by that statement. «There's no need to.»

Fukuzawa scoffed. «You are severely injured, after all. Kunikida says that you're acting strangely.»

«I'm always acting strangely.»

_Fukuzawa couldn't argue with that_. «You know what I mean,» he said sternly. «You seem more off than usual. Is there something bothering you?»

«I'm booooored.» Dazai shrugged, acting oblivious to his elder's words of concern.

«Don't play stupid, Dazai. You know more than you're letting on. All we want is to find whoever did this to you.»

«I told you that I don't remember.»

«I think you do.»

It was Dazai's turn to scoff. He was considering how much he could actually tell his boss without seeming suspicious. This wasn't a job for the agency. This was personal.

«Just... don't worry about it, okay?»

«It's not okay.»

«Well, it has to be, 'cause I'm not talking.»

* * *

I mean NO offence to the Greek national anthem. I just needed a song or a poem with many verses, and that was the first I could think of! **Nothing **but **love!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Soooo, I realized a couple of days ago that _I've been mixing Kouyou and Kyouka's names_. I've been using Kouyou when meaning Kyouka in the first chapters. I'll get around to fix that! Sorry. Again- new to the fandom. **

**I might be able to upload another chapter to this story sometime later today, as it is nearly done! I decided that**** it would be too long compared to the others!**

* * *

Fukuzawa decided that it was time to bring in the big guns. He walked away from Dazai's room while looking at his phone, pressing the screen and found the number he was looking for.

«President?» was heard from the other side, as Atsushi answered the phone. «Is Dazai okay?»

«Considering the circumstances, yes. But I need you to come back here.»

«Why's that?» he asked worriedly. Fukuzawa scoffed.

«We're gonna have to get to the bottom of this, but Dazai's will not talk to me. I was thinking to use a more... unconventional method. Come over straight away, that's an order.»

A gulp was heard on the other end as Fukuzawa abruptly hung up the phone, not letting his young subordinates ask any more questions.

It didn't take long before Atsushi was walking slightly slumped over through the hospital corridors for the second time that day. He was worried about what his boss would order him to do. Surely he couldn't ask him to torture Dazai. That could _not_ be the unconventional method he had mentioned. Thinking about it, he had some serious doubts that Dazai would crumble under torture anyway. But if not that.. then what?

"Ah, hello Atsushi," Fukuzawa greeted him, waving him over to where he was standing further down the hall.

"President! Wha-what's going on?" Atsushi asked uncertainly and picked up his pace.

"Can you by any chance, cry on command?"

Atsushi stopped, only blinking at the older man. Fukuzawa only stared back, so Atsushi arched his eyebrows.

Nothing.

"Hah?" he uttered, intelligently.

"Can you cry on command?" he repeated as if asking him to hand him the salt.

"I- I don't think I can..?"

"Try."

Atsushi kept staring. '_What the hell is he on about?'_

Fukuzawa sighed and scowled at him. "Apparently not." A finger tapped on pouched lips, humming as if he thought for a moment, and proceeded to reach out his hand. Atsushi watched guardedly and leaned slightly forward like his boss' hand was gesturing to do. A sharp pain shot through a part of his nerves system and his eyes grew warm and watery. Atsushi's hands shot to his face, covering his nose in disbelief, where the hairs of his nostrils had been ripped out by his superior.

"There you go!" he exclaimed happily, as the tears started to well up in Atsushi's eyes.

"What'd you do that for?" he cried out. Strong and determined hands shoved the young man towards Dazai's room, while instructions were being given.

"I couldn't get Dazai to talk, and I know he has a soft spot for you. Go get the information we need to move on with the investigation."

"Aaah," was all Atsushi was able to say before he was pushed into the room and the door shut behind him.

"Atsushi?" He heard Dazai's voice ask, and he turned, still covering his nose. The tears were running freely now as he watched his mentor lying in the hospital bed.

"Are you okay?" the dark-haired man asked, tryingly sitting upright. He rolled his eyes when he realized that there was no way.

"I... uh, D-Dazai?" Atsushi stuttered, wiping his eyes and hesitantly approaching the bed. "I'm... I'm sorry, I just- uh..." he sniffled. "I was worried, about you. That's all. About who did this to you," he finally managed to flounder out.

Dazai smiled faintly and pointed to the chair on his left. Atsushi complied, sitting down obediently.

"Atsushi..." Dazai sighed. The younger man lifted his gaze to meet his elders. "I need you to get me out of here."

Atsushi startled with wide eyes, his voice breaking as he uttered, "huh?" He was just full of intelligent responses today, wasn't he?

"I need _you_ to get me out,_ today_. _Right now_. I have some business to take care of. It might be a matter of _life or death_," Dazai stared intensely into the wide eyes of Atsushi and continued, "It's _absolutely crucial_ for me to get out at_ this instance_. This whole_ country_ might rely on this. _Yes_, that's right. _All_ of Japan. Do you think you can do that for me?" he asked with intensity.

"Da-Dazai? Are you sure, I mean..." Atsushi felt his breaths getting caught in his throat and his heart raced probably twice as fast as it was supposed to.

"I would have done all of this myself, but... _it's kinda hard with the president's outside, guarding me like a dog_," he overly-pronounced and half-shouted at the door. The door had miraculously cracked open without Atsushi noticing, and was now quickly shut.

Atsushi still in shock and lips trembling as he looked from Dazai to the door repeatedly. Dazai let out a slight chuckle but looked somewhat unimpressed at Atsushi's' confusion.

"Don't worry, it's not the first time he's tried something like this," Dazai stated, folding his hand at his chest. "Sorry kiddo, my lips are sealed."

"Wait, you're not... you're not really..? Japan isn't in danger?"

"No," he scoffed, with a satisfied grin on his face, before it dropped in annoyance. "I just wanted to get rid of Fukuzawa. He makes it_ so_ troublesome to convince any of these beautiful nurses to agree to commit double suicide with me," he sighed dramatically, looking longingly through the window on his right.

* * *

The next day, once again- another call came from the hospital to the ADA office.

"_What_?" Kunikida's voice rung through the room, loud and angry. "What do you mean _'he's gone_'?! He has a broken back and a broken leg, he can't exactly just walk out by himself!"

Like the days before, all attention was turned to the tall and bespeckled man. It wasn't as if he tried to hide his outrage as he waved his arms furiously into the air and yelling to what must have been a very distressed nurse at this point.

Kyouka just arrived through the door to the raucous going down in the middle of the room and sat curiously down by Atsushi's desk.

"What's going on?" she whispered to him, deliberately ignoring some of the colorful profanities that embroidered the idealistic man's language, usually reserved for Dazai.

"Apparently Dazai is missing from the hospital," Atsushi answered her, looking horrified and guilty at the same time.

Suspicious eyes looked him over, and Kyouka forcefully turned his face with her hand so he would look her in the eyes. Sharp nails dug into his skin as he let out a small yelp.

"You don't happen to know anything about this jailbreak, do you?" she glared at him.

"No! No no no. I really don't! I swear! It's just-"

"No, _you_ calm down missy! I'd like to speak to your superior! Arranging a search party for that suicidal maniac was _not_ part of my-my... I... I'm sorry. Miss? Don't- don't cry... I'm-"

"It's just what?" Yosano shot in with a soft, yet strangely sensual voice, leaning over the desk, head resting in her hands and letting a generous part of her cleavage spill out between her elbows.

"He- he kinda joked about it yesterday. That's all. Fukuzawa heard it too, just ask him! I didn't take it seriously though."

"Why wouldn't you take it seriously?" Yosano snapped back.

"He told me not to!"

"Have you_ met_ Dazai?"

"_What's going on in there_?" a strong bass voice echoed from the hallway before the door into the shared office landscape was even opened. Fukuzawa entered with an angry grimace, demanding to know why Kunikida was yelling and the rest of the agency seemed to chatter around it instead of working.

"Uh, president, it's..." Kunikida startled.

"Apologize to whoever you are verbally abusing and tell me what's happened!"

"Y-yes, I'm so, _so_ sorry miss. Please, we will see you in a little while._ Ilooklikeanavaragehightbrownhairedbandagewastingmummiewithastupidsmirkonmystupidface_." And he hung up, receiving a poisonous stare from his superior.

Kunikida cleared his throat. "_Sir_, Dazai seems to have disappeared from the hospital sometime during the night."

"Ah, yes. I know," Fukuzawa simply stated.

"You _knew_?"

"Yes. Atsushi too. He was there."

The stares turned to Atsushi, who squirmed in his seat. "N-no, I didn't! Not really... for...sure." Atsushi swung his head down in defeat._ 'I guess I should've known'._

* * *

It rained heavily as Dazai with poorly hidden difficulty stepped out of the cab, leaning unsteadily on his crutches. He had gotten a strict message from the doctors that he was in no way, shape or form to leave the hospital yet, even though he had _really_ turned on his charm and tried to sweet talk with anyone who would listen- which turned out to be frustratingly few. He wondered if it had anything to do with the three more times he had sung the Greek national anthem to get rid of the guards on his suicide watch.

(...)

God dammit,_ he was in pain._ How in the world could the doctors and the others at the agency think that he would inflict this amount of pain on himself _again_, for the second- no wait,_ it was also that time at the shopping mall_... Well, a _third_ time! They must really think he was stupid if he hadn't figured out that jumping off buildings was a much too painful way to go, after _three_ attempts.

His eyes gazed at the old abandoned church in front of him. He couldn't understand why in the world they wouldn't just have knocked the whole..._ unholy fucking abomination_ down years ago. What was the point of leaving it? He should've done it himself when he had the chance. Long before it would come to haunt him again, after almost ten years of being buried, deep down in the lowest depths of his fractured mind.

Now it was too late. _He needed it again._


	4. Chapter 4

The structure was still as ominous as ever. It didn't help the grim picture that he was standing in the middle of a storm. The thunder and lightning made his scars sting as a reminder of what had transpired inside of this church, many years ago.

But, he wasn't here for nostalgia.

He hobbled carefully towards the locked gates of the black-painted fence that protected the graveyard that surrounded the run-down church. Reaching into the pocket of the coat he had been relieved to find inside a locker in his hospital room, still held the old brass key he had received along with the letter.

Once again, like the week before, he turned the key in the rusted lock, with a bit more trouble. It released the chains keeping the gate together and it fell to the ground.

Dazai cursed under his breath at his failed attempted to catch it. The strain had been a little too much for his back, and now he would have to bend down to pick it up when he left. _If he left._

Well, he would have to deal with that later.

He closed the gate behind him to the best of his ability with his limited movement, to not raise suspicion for anyone that would possibly venture by at this time at night. Idiots like himself.

The few steps up to the large wooden door also proved to be a challenge on his damaged body, but with a little bit of patience (that he truly didn't have right now), he managed to get up, only to be greeted by a very much bolted-up-door.

'_No, why did he bolt it shut?_' The familiar anger started to clutter his vision. Despite himself, he tried to knock.

"Hey!" He knocked harder. "_Hey_! Come on out, you... _fuck_!" His voice broke as his knocks against the door grew to desperate slams. With one hand. Then two. "You're such a_ fucking coward!_" Crutches fell from armpits and landed on the stone flooring with two separate clangs. Instinctively, Dazai lowered his broken leg, bones still attached to the external fixation device, to keep his balance.

The amount of pain that shot from his leg through his entire body was inhumane. The moment his leg touched the ground, he collapsed. He couldn't keep himself from screaming out from the agonizing sensations of violent spasms, as he thrust on the ground in anger and hurt.

After some time, he was able to calm himself. He had finally managed to execute his stupidest stunt yet. Probably. It definitely was up there.

The rain was pouring, and every inch of the pitiful man was soaked. If the fall hadn't killed him, pneumonia was a pretty clear contender, right now. He needed to get out of this mess.

There was no way he could get up by himself. His back opposed to any movement he tried to make, and his leg seemed to have pinned itself stuck in a crack in the stones he was now, miserably lying on.

'_I have to do it... I don't want to. But, it's not the best time to die right now. It would be rather inconvenient actually..._ God _dammit_!'

Painfully, he was able to reach to his pocket and retrieve his phone. Mindlessly scrolling through numbers until it came to a stop in the last part of 's'.

_Slug_.

* * *

Chuya's phone was ringing. It was in the middle of the night, and the high buzzing sound and a default ringtone woke him from a deep sleep. Hazy, blue eyes looked at the display, that said,_ Mackrell_.

_Nope_.

He went back to sleep.

A few minutes later, his sleep was again interrupted. This time from a text message.

"Fucking bastard," he growled and picked up the phone to see what could possibly be so important that his mortal enemy would text him in the middle of the night. If it was _another fucking cat_ playing the piano, he would (secretly be pretty amused) unleash his ultimate power on that stupid walking roll of toiletpaper and he didn't even care if he'd die if he could just...

_\- I need your help._

Chuya pressed his face brutally against his pillow.

He texted back and pressed send.

_\- Fuck you._

Then he turned around on his back, phone in hand and waited for some whiny and annoying response or some 'witty' reply with an invitation to _do just that._

A couple of minutes went by. 10 minutes. 15.

Chuya rolled his eyes and sighed. '_Great, now I'm getting worried_.'

He reluctantly opened the message again and texted.

\- _Where?_

A couple of moments went by before his phone rang. Chuya pressed on the accept button so fast that he got embarrassed for a moment, before placing the phone to his ear.

"_What_? Why in the hell are you calling me in the _middle of the night_! I swear to God, if you're not already dying, I'll personally make sure that you-"

"I might be dying," Dazai's hoarse voice cut him off.

Chuya kept silent, a bit set back by the deadpanned reply. A guttural cough was heard in the other end.

Chuya let out a deep breath. "Where are you, bastard?"

"Church." Was all he said before the connection got cut.

"Church...? No, no, no. Dazai? Dazai!" Chuya looked furiously on the screen of his phone and tried to dial back, He waited. No reply.

"Fuck, Dazai, you _stupid_..." he sneered to himself and got up from the bed, pulling on the first clothes he could find and sprinted out the door.

* * *

The big black landrover was almost comically opposite its small red-haired owner. There was nothing comical about his expression of absolute terror though, as he sped through the dark street towards the church that he usually planned his trips to avoid at all costs.

He was about to pass it before he stepped on the brakes, and he jerked forward, being stopped by the seatbelt. The rain was pouring down so heavily at this point, that he could hardly see through the windows. He opened the car door and ran outside.

He saw him. Dazai was lying on the ground, right outside the door. '_What the fuck is he even doing here? _'

The gate was slightly open, so he had no problems with pushing past it. He looked wearily to each side, as he jogged the couple of feet between the gate and steps.

"What are you doing, you scrawny idiot?" he tried calling out, hoping to get a response.

He didn't.

_Shit._

He kneeled by the limp man's side.

"Hey, Dazai. Come on." He slapped his cheek tryingly. _His cheeks were so cold_. Chuya looked him over quickly, only then noticing the metal sticking out of his left leg.

"Jesus Christ, you really are an idiot," he mumbled.

Dazai was still holding his phone, and Chuya took it from his hand to make sure it wasn't already broken from all the water. To his surprise it lit up when he touched the screen, only to realize that it was a message for him there, that he apparently hadn't been able to send before falling unconscious.

_No hospital_

_Hatrack :-)_

"You rather took the time to... fucking bastard."

* * *

In spite of his moderate size, Chuya was more than strong enough to carry Dazai from the car to his dormitory. _There was no way in hell that he would show him where he lived._

Chuya was a man with a plan. He had already found Dazai's keys while in the car, and without too much struggle he retrieved the right one and locked them inside.

He didn't bother to show the courtesy of taking off his shoes before grimy loafers stepped inside, aqua eyes scanning his surroundings.

Dazai had a modest apartment. It was a small kitchen corner with an island for eating, a brown leather coach placed to face an old-looking bookcase and a kotatsu in the opposite corner. A sliding door  
lead into what Chuya understood was the bedroom and lifted Dazai inside.

The bedroom was even more modest, only decorated with a futon and a small dresser.

Chuya walked across the wooden floor and carefully placed the passed out man on the bed, lifting the blanket up and threw it on top of him.

Then he stood up and looked around. There really wasn't much to look at. The dresser had endless boxes and rolls of bandages on top of it, and a pair of glasses. Chuya chuckled and lifted them up, trying them on.

"God, Dazai. When did you go blind?" He proceeded to squint around the room, realizing that there wasn't a single mirror. _Of course, there wasn't._

Chuya placed the spectacles back onto the dresser before he heard something stir behind him.

He turned to look at Dazai, now with eyes half-lidded, peering up at him.

"Look who finally decided to wake up. Pretty conveniently after I've struggled to carry him up the stairs."

"Just wanted you to finally carry me over the threshold, chibi," the weak voice snickered, before letting out a painful sigh. "Chuya, would you mind handing me some clothes from the dresser. Whatever's fine."

"Glad you're finally ready to listen to my fashion advice."

"If I wanted to join the circus, perhaps."

Chuya opened the first drawer. The only thing laying there was a grey cotton shirt and a pair of black joggers.

"You literally have _one_ shirt and _one_ pair of pants."

Dazai shrugged and forced himself to sit upright with his teeth clenched. After a short break dedicated to catching his raspy breath, he started to take off his soaked jacket.

Chuya turned with the clothes in his arms, first now noticing that Dazai was wearing a hospital gown. With the back showing, he could see that the ties in the back had come undone, and the soaked bandages underneath had started to loosen.

"Did you... escape from a hospital or something?"

"Yeah," Dazai mumbled and disposed of his gown. The bandages were completely loose now, and Chuya could clearly see the familiar disfigured back. The scarring that embroidered every inch of Dazai's upper body.

Dazai couldn't reach around to cover it back up. His fractured spine made his movements very limited, and he had realized that it just wasn't going to happen.

Chuuya noticed the fresh surgical scar on the middle of his back.

«I can't reach,» Dazai said silently, but suddenly turning his face towards Chuuya with a cheeky grin. «Hah, must be nice hearing someone else say that for once.»

Chuuya snorted but finally chipped his shoes off, returned to the dresser to pick up some new bandages and crouched behind his former friend, giving him a slap across the head and not holding anything back.

Reaching for a piece of gauze, he peeled off the protective layer and carefully placed it along the scar.

«Do I even need to ask what happened?» he mumbled, reaching for a set of bandages on his right.

«I didn't try to kill myself,» Dazai answered with a faint smile.

«Really? Are you telling me that you're finally maturing?»

«Tch, never.»

Chuuja continued his work in silence, covering every little blemish on Dazai's back, as he knew he needed.

«Are you in pain?» he finally asked.

«I'm fine,» Dazai sighed.

«That bad, huh?»

A melancholic smile appeared on Dazai's face. Chuya had always been able to read him like a book. He probably knew him better than he knew himself.

«There, is it okay?» Chuya asked, fastening the last piece of the bandage.

«Sure. Thank you, Chuya,» Dazai hesitated and turned to face Chuuya. «So, about today...»

«Yeah, I'm kinda curious. Spit it out, patchy.»

«He's back.»

"Fuck... Yeah, I kinda figured. And I'm guessing it has everything to do with your sorry-ass-state?"

Dazai didn't answer. Chuya sighed.

«I need alcohol. Do you have any wine?»

«Aren't you driving?»

Chuya shot back with a stare, telling him _not_ to go there.

«In the kitchen cabinet. Do you mind bringing me some sake?»

«Aren't you on pain medications?»

Dazai gave him a stare, telling _him_ not to go there right back.

* * *

This was such a fun chapter to write! I love the connection between these two, and it's so much fun to play around with! This story has a bit more readers on Archive of our own, but I will keep uploading it to here too.


	5. Chapter 5

**This is an edited chapter. I've been wanting to change it since I posted it, but didn't. But now I did. Let's just say that the word "kiss" is changed to "slap".**

**(I don't know if everyone gets an update everytime I update this- but the pharagraps **_just don't want to translate when posted!)_

«So, the preacher is back?» Chuuya mumbled thoughtfully while pouring their drinks, returning into the bedroom where he had propped up the pillows against the wall to help Dazai sit upright.

"Yup," Dazai stated emotionless, accepting the flask and small cup Chuya had brought him. Quickly, he shot back the liquid from the cup, before throwing it to the side and concentrated his attention directly to the bottle instead.

Chuya prompted his elbow to his knee, resting his head on a tightly gripped fist.

"Jeeze, you're so unrefined."

"Yup."

Chuya sighed heavily, feeling uneasy by the fact that his former partner wasn't poking back. But considering the circumstances... During the ten or so years since he had known Dazai, the preacher had been the one and only person he had ever seen Dazai actually_ fear._

_And with good reason..._

"He sent me a letter," Dazai stated suddenly.

Chuya's train of thought was abrupted by Dazai's confession.

"A letter?"

Dazai pointed lazily to the jacket he had thrown on the floor. "Right pocket."

Chuya grabbed the beige coat but hesitated as he held the tan trench coat in his hands.

"Was this Oda's?"

"Right pocket," Dazai said firmly. "Read it before I change my mind."

He didn't want to let it go, so he made a mental note to talk to him about it later. Reaching into the pocket of the tan coat, he picked out a rusty old key and a letter that was partially soaked. He gingerly opened the envelope, making sure that he didn't rip it.

The ink on the page inside had smeared out, but he could still make up most of it.

_Dazai. _  
_Because of you, the wrath of God is coming. Be ready for your atonement, for I am back. You will be lead to eternal punishment, your righteous eternal life in the flames of the devil's embrace. You have already been denied as His child. Your undying suffering will see no end in this life. His doom has already come upon you. It is time to let God reflect you, so you can truly see yourself once more- the way he has always done. He knows your longings. He knows your anger. He knows that you fear Him._

_I set the key of David on thy shoulders. When he opens no one will shut, when he shuts, no one will open._

_You know what to do._

_May God forgive you_

_Father_

**(A/N: I tried my best on this letter. Much of it is passages is from the bible that I have tried to rewrite to some extent and tried to make sense towards what I wanted it to do. It was kinda hard to write, but I did my best!)**

"I don't get it," Chuya mumbled and looked to Dazai.

"I guess it's not for you to understand." Dazai's emotionless attitude started.

"Then why the hell did you even call me if you don't want my help?"

Dazai looked away. He was tired, in pain and he felt dizzy.

"Because I didn't want to die on his doorstep," he explained simply, taking another sip of the sake.

For some reason, this angered Chuya greatly._ Was that all it was? Really?_

"You know what,_ fuck you Dazai_. I-"

"No, _fuck you_ Chuya! _Fuck you!_" Dazai raised his voice and turned back to the smaller man. "I-I... I _don't_ have the answers, okay? I _don't_ know why he is back, I _don't_ know why he wanted me to come back to Shinja, and I _don't_ know why_ I_ did! I _don't_ know what happened when I got up there, and I _don't_ know how I survived, and I _don't_ know why I went back! The only_ fucking thing I know_ is that I needed you..." Dazai's voice broke. He cleared his throat. "I... I needed you in this. You're the only one I can talk to..." He lowered his head in shame. Pained, heavy breaths tore in his chest and he just wanted to hide under his blanket and never come back.

Chuya stood in the middle of the room, unmoving. This was the first time Dazai had ever raised his voice at him. He couldn't remember him raising his voice to anyone. Not him, not Mori, not Akutagawa, Oda, Ango and certainly not the preacher... He never raised his voice, _ever. _It was always so gentle. So untouched by _anything._

_And he felt so greatful to be on the recieving end of his first verbal assult from his former partner, not counting their usual bickering._

Chuya lowered himself to Dazai's futon. Dazai wouldn't look at him.

"Listen, Dazai..." Chuya lay an affectionate hand on Dazai's chin and guided his face back up to lock eyes. Dazai was crying._ Actually _crying_._

_Another first._

"Please look at me," Chuya whispered, and finally Dazai looked up.

Chuuya slapped his face, _hard._

Dazai startled by the sudden action. Chuuya ruffled a hand in the unruly mess of dark brown hair.

A sharp pain struck Dazai as his friendemy accidentally leaned his weight on Dazai's broken leg.

He winched and retreated.

"_Fuck_, I'm so sorry Dazai!" Chuya seemed frantic. It was out of character for the small man.

Dazai forced a laugh, mostly to reassure Chuya that it was okay. Both the accidental butt-to-fracture action _and_ the slap.

"Don't worry," Dazai sighed with a faint smile. "I just, I'm not myself right now... I'm too tired."

Chuya smiled, and sat back beside Dazai, lifting his arm over the slightly younger (by two months and he would_ not_ let Dazai forget about it) man's head. Dazai leaned on his shoulder and made an effort to relax.

They kept drinking in silence, both deep in thought. It didn't take long until Dazai passed out from the unfortunate combination of painkillers and alcohol.

Chuya was leaned back with the former mafioso dozed off with his head rested on his lap. He watched him sleeping, thinking that this would probably be the last time he would see him this relaxed until they found a way to once again get rid of that devil that usually haunted Dazai's sleep. Unless they couldn't... _No, he didn't want to think about that._

It didn't take long before he fell asleep himself.

* * *

Something_ itched._

His nose. Chuya snorted and tried to swap at the fly disturbing his sleep.

_Again._

Chuya startled and shook himself out of his haze, ready to crush that fly into oblivion only to be met by... _a hand?_

_"Boop!"_

Chuya looked down. A childish grin was looking back up at him, once again raising his finger to press his nose like you would a button.

"Boop!"

"Dazai... _what_ are you doing?"

"I'm booping your nose."

Chuya looked at the undoubtedly entertained man-child. The undoubtedly entertained former youngest-ever executive of the _port fucking mafia_, and the bottle of strong painkillers that was tilted on the side of the bed.

_"Boop!"_

_His former superior._

"Boop!"

"I'm going to _kill_ you!"

* * *

Kunikida was a man who liked to stick to his routines. Some might call it OCD, but he himself didn't really see it that way. It was just what his ideals were. Having things in order.

Every day he would wake up at five o'clock. He would proceed to take twenty push-ups, twenty sit-ups and run for twenty minutes on the treadmill.

He would drink 1,5 dl of green tea at 170 degrees, and eat a bowl of oatmeal. 1 cup of old-fashioned rolled oats, 2 cups of milk, 1/8 teaspoon of salt, cooked for 7 minutes. This was supposed to happen between 6:00 and 6:30.

He would brush his teeth for two minutes and then floss for one hundred seconds.

If nothing (_Dazai_) interrupted his ritual, that would mean that he could walk across the parking lot from the dormitories and be at work by exactly 7 o'clock.

Today, that didn't happen. The long-haired man stopped in the parking lot and looked around. There was supposed to be two cars in the parking lot. _There were three._

_A large black landrover was parked in one of the usually vacant spots._

Kunikida took a deep breath. _'It's fine. It's probably just someone who doesn't want to pay for parking across the street.'_

He kept walking.

_'Which means that _I_, who_ live here_, pays for this idiot's parking!'_

Kunikida spun back with clenched fists and grinding teeth, ready to leave a_ very cross_ note to whoever that _stupid idiot thought he_... Then he noticed the crutches in the back seat.

Yes, Kunikida was a man who liked to stick to his routines. He liked his life to be planned out and predictable. That, however, didn't mean that it was difficult for him to add two and two together _(he used to be a math teacher after all)_. He leaped up the stairs to the second-floor patio of their dorms and knocked hard on Dazai's door until the lock of the door clicked and the door slowly creaked open.

Within seconds he wrote in his notebook that he had to make Dazai oil the henches of his door.

"Where have you been you bandage wasting-" Kunikida cut himself off at the sight of the small redhead. His white shirt was crumbled and untucked, and black pants had hastily been pulled up as his belt was not buckled.

The short and the tall man looked at each other before some kind of recognition smacked Kunikida across the head.

"You're that Port Mafia ginger-kid!"

Chuya looked from his current state of hardly-awake. "I have no idea who you are."

"Where is Dazai-kun?" he asked in a raised voice, clearly showing his anger over this situation.

"Shhh," Chuya hissed annoyed and dragged the blonde inside. "He's still sleeping! I swear to God if you wake him- he's the most irritating person I've ever met when he's injur..."

"Chuyaaa..." a weak voice was heard from the bedroom. "I don't feel well."

_Thank God, he seems to be feeling better_, Chuya thought but cringed at the sound.

Kunikida stomped past the short redhead and into Dazai's bedroom.

"Where the hell has you been, you-" he cut himself off.

Dazai was too pale. He didn't look good at all. He really needed to go back to the hospital. Kunikida sighed in defeat. He couldn't yell at Dazai right now. The sight of his partner was just_ too _pitiful.

"Dazai-kun," he stated in the softest voice he could muster.

"F-Fabio?"

Kunikida had to strain himself not to punch the kid. _No punching. He's clearly delirious._

"Dazai, we should go back to the hospital," he smiled stiffly.

"I never really liked the Hanson brothers, you know," he mumbled, trailing off. "No offense."

_Someday, he was going to kill him. He really was._

"Yeah, he's been acting like this all morning." Chuya leaned on the doorframe.

"I don't even give a shit why you're here anymore. Would you mind helping me get him to my car?" Kunikida asked.

_"Absolutely."_


	6. Chapter 6

** I'm still kinda arguing with myself over the kissing part in the last chapter. They weren't really supposed to have that kind of relationship. It just kinda happened. I don't usually write that kind of stuff. Or, at least, I have never done before.**

**It's not going to be a huge part of the story anyway, and I'm not going to write anything really graphic. I just could not help my self. I haven't finished writing the story, so I usually take comments in consideration when writing the next part- so everyone is a potential influence on the story.**

**And still- I regret nothing (I think).**

* * *

"Get up."

Dazai squirmed under the blanket on his mattress. The chill of the stone flooring could be felt through the thin mattress, and the snow-filled streets made the rest of the building just as cold as the outside.

He still wasn't quite awake, but a kick to the side that flung him off his modest bedding changed that. He snapped awake as the pain in his chest made it hard for him to breathe.

"S-sorry, father," he stuttered, as he fumbled to his feet with more difficulty than it should. It was painful to stand up, but at this point, he could not remember it to be any other way.

The preacher sneered at the sight of the scrawny-looking boy. His body was black and blue, skinny and small. Scarred. He was not a worthy successor of him.

He had hoped that the constant physical and psychological strain he would put on his only son would help build some character. Unfortunately, he had clearly taken after his sinful harlet of a mother. Developing slowly, but it was already clear at ten, that he had not inherited his own physical superiority.

_Such a waste of space. Such a waste of time. Such a waste of life._

However, what the boy had inherited from him, was his special ability. Well,_ one_ of them. Not the more useful one. Not the one he would use to taunt the boy. The one that made the boy useful, in spite of all his lack.

"It's time to go," the preacher said grimly, receiving a nervous nod as response.

Dazai's shaky legs were able to carry him across the room, where his dark suit lay, carelessly having been disposed of on a chair some days before.

* * *

The car, being driven by the preacher, stopped in front of the gate of a grand metal fence being guarded by two armed men.

Exchanging a couple of words with the guards, they opened the gate for the visitors, and let them pass.

The driveway led them to the large mansion, that still unknown to Dazai, he would become very familiar with some time in the near future. He now sat in the backseat, looking anxiously out the window with his one eye that was not covered by a bandage after the particularly harsh punishment a couple of days before.

A tall and slender man stood and waited for them in front of the door. He smiled as the car parked, and the large man in his clerical clothing and the small, bandaged, suit-wearing boy stepped out of the car.

"Welcome, father. I am Dr. Õgai Mori. Who may this young man be?" The older man's eyes wrinkled as he looked at Dazai with a big smile.

"This is my son, Osamu Dazai," the preacher said in his deep voice, giving Dazai a pat on the back. Dazai tried not to flinch from the touch but was only half successful. He knew he would pay for that later.

If the action was detected by the tall doctor, he didn't show it. With the grin still plastered on his face, he showed them inside.

"The boss is looking forward to seeing your special ability, father. A man with the power of making God show himself-" Mori sighed. "It just seems too good to be true."

The trio walked into a large room where several people already resided. An elderly looking man sat emotionless in a red velvet chair. He hardly acknowledged them. Beside him in an embroidered sofa, sat two others. A lady dressed in a white and red kimono, and a small redheaded boy by her side.

Dazai looked curiously at the boy. He hardly ever met anyone at his own age anymore. The redhead looked back but shyly looked down as their eyes met.

"Maybe the children would like to go outside-" Mori started to say, but was quickly interrupted by the preacher.

"No. I need my son here."

The grey-haired man looked skeptically at the preacher, and rested his head impatiently in his hand, propped up at the armrest.

"All right. Well, are we ready to begin?" Mori said with forced chipperness, looking from his boss to the preacher.

"Proceed," the gray-haired man said, waving his hand dismissively towards the men standing in front of him. He was sceptical to the whole ordeal, but if this man really had the power he claimed to possess, he would be an asset that they could _not _afford to miss out on.

The preacher's face contorted into a crooked smile, as he stared at the doubting elderly leader of the Port Mafia. With a hand motion, he gestured for Dazai to get in place. Dazai complied, walking a couple of feet and standing to face his father.

"Lord, please reveal yourself- I am asking as your humble servant. Help me save thy people. Honor us with your divine presence-" The preacher held out his arms as he spoke. "Shower me in your light. I am nothing but a pawn. Please, listen to a _sinners chagrin_."

The light in the room flickered. The three seated at the lounge startled, and Mori looked on with wide eyes.

Dazai let out a small whimper, as black fog accumulated around his body.

"Please, all mighty God, show yourself!" the preacher yelled as his son fell to the ground and started to tremble as if he was having a seizure. A pained cry was heard before the convulsions became worse. The lights went out just as the violent shaking subsided, and Dazai was left unmoving on the floor.

After a short while, Dazai slowly got back up. The room was left in complete silence. The preacher stepped back and snapped his fingers.

The small redhead looked with wide eyes as the fog once again gathered around Dazai, slowly morphing into a shape. A shape that almost looked human._ Could that really be God?_

The preacher smiled triumphantly at the disbelieving faces that were looking at the spectacle before them.

The apparition stood in a purple glow behind his son, folding its hands over the boy's narrow shoulders, holding him tightly, almost protectively, to its translucent body.

Dazai's eyes were closed, but his expression was distressed. He couldn't take much more. He knew that. He usually lasted longer, but his body was so weak. It seemed to get weaker every time.

"F-father..." he whispered pleadingly, eyes slowly opening.

The preacher shot him a brisk look but didn't stop.

"Dear Merciful Lord. Please forgive me. I am a sinner..." Dazai spoke weakly. The hold around him tightened, and he moaned painfully as sweat started to drip down his cheek. "Help me to release the hurt... and... _ngh_!"

_Something was not right._

A gasp was heard from somewhere and he could hear his father's voice yell something, but he was unable to comprehend the words. He just knew he had done something wrong.

Everything around him turned to black as he hit the floor.

* * *

Dazai woke up to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. His body felt heavy, but he wasn't in the excessive amount of pain he had previously been in.

He turned his head to see the sleeping form of his youngest co-worker.

Atsushi's head was leaning on the back of the chair, and a trail of saliva went from his mouth to his cheek.

_'Great_', Dazai thought, as he realized that he was back at the hospital.

He looked at a clock on the wall but was unable to tell what it said. It was too far away, and the sight of his right eye had never quite recovered from years of neglected medical treatment.

"Atsushi?" he tried, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat. "Atsushi?" A little better this time, but still much too weak for his liking. Luckily, it was enough for Atsushi to startle awake.

The young man quickly wiped his chin.

"Dazai! You're awake!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"How long was I out?"

"You were brought in two days ago," Atsushi answered, receiving an annoyed grimace in response.

"Jeezes, I don't have time for this," Dazai mumbled and tried to get up.

The hands that within seconds held him back down was completely unnecessary. His back didn't allow him to sit up, and his leg screamed bloody murder at the small motion. _Or maybe it was him_.

"Shit," Dazai murmured and lay back in defeat.

"No! You're not going anywhere. The doctor said that you're lucky you didn't-" _Atsushi wanted to say 'die', but already knew the response he would get to that._ "...break yourself, entirely beyond repair."

Dazai rolled his eyes.

"You needed emergency surgery on your leg again. Please Dazai, _please_, just rest," Atsushi said pleadingly.

_'Stupid sympathetical lovable kid'_

"Fine," Dazai snarled. He realized there wasn't anything he could do right now anyway, in this useless state. He might as well heal as much as he could.

Atsushi fell back in the chair with a relieved sigh.

* * *

Sure, he was off suicide watch. But this-this was almost worse.

During the next week, the entire ADA had been babysitting him in the hospital. His doctor was still grumpy after his prison break, and apparently, he had gotten his cute-nurse-card revoked. The nurse he would see most frequently was an elderly, short, heavy-set woman. She didn't speak to him, she _growled._

To top it off, he hadn't spoken to Chuuya since he arrived back at the hospital. Not even a phone call or text message.

Well, to be fair, there was no way for Dazai to know that, after the angry nurse so rudely had taken his phone right in the middle of a midnight prank call to Kunikida.

The heavy-handed changing of his bandages and the snarky comments, he could forgive. But revealing him to be Kunikida's prank caller, that was just simply unforgivable.

With an overly dramatic sigh, Dazai turned his head to face Kunikida who was his prison guard for the day.

"Kunikida... my dear friend," Dazai started, getting the blonde's attention. With a grimace, he looked at the injured man by his side. "If I promise you, to never-_ ever_\- call you again after midnight... unless it's an emergency (_or if I'm drunk and need a ride back from the bar_) would you_ please_ help me get my phone back?"

Kunikida scowled at him. "You swear?" he said sternly.

Dazai signed a cross with his finger across his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Kunikida left out an exasperated breath, and picked Dazai's phone up from his pocket.

"Did you have it all this time?" Dazai asked wide-eyed and looking very betrayed.

Kunikida shrugged and went back to writing in his book.

Dazai unlocked his phone, realizing with amazement that he still had half the battery left. But, no messages or missed phone calls from Chuuya. He thought for a second and started typing away.

* * *

Chuuya was in the middle of a meeting when his phone made a noise. Apologizing, he looked at the display under the table. _Mackrell._

A feeling of relief rushed through him at the sign of life from his former partner, that he had left in a very sorry state at the hospital over a week ago. There was no reason for his presence to be questioned by the rest of the ADA too. The crabby blonde guy was more than enough.

He pressed the button to show the message from Dazai and cursed loudly as the sound of a keyboard interrupted the chatter in the meeting room.

* * *

**If the last sentence is confusing, you can find your answers in chapter 4 ;-)**

**Thank you for reading! The next chapter will be up soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chuuya looked on the unconscious boy on the floor with horror staining every part of his being. Mori had gotten up and was on his way to check up on the child when the preacher told him threateningly not to dare touch him.

It was hard to understand what had just happened in front of them. Especially for a young mind like Chuuya's, even though he had seen more than most throughout his short life.

The black smoke that had turned into, _supposedly_, God, had moments later morphed into the preacher himself. That was the last thing that had happened before the preacher had shut down whatever-the-hell had just happened.

"So, that was God, huh?" the leader of the Port Mafia said mockingly. "I suppose your image of God, is yourself then, no?"

The preacher looked furiously at the older man, clenching his fists.

"I'm not stupid, father. Your whole scheme might trick ordinary people, but not me. Your power has nothing to do with any God, does it?" he asked rhetorically before shaking his head. "My guess is that your ability is to make anyone's greatest fear appear in front of them, that's why you need the boy. Isn't it?"

The preacher did not answer. He stomped across the floor to his son and grabbed him by his jacket.

"You have probably worked a long time to make sure to strike the fear of God into the boy. Well, it seems like you have pushed too far. His fear isn't of God anymore. It's of you."

The preacher marched out from the room with the still unmoving boy tightly in his grip.

"I guess this unfortunate turn of events is quite inconvenient for your reputation as 'the preacher who speaks directly to God', isn't it?"

The front door shut with a loud bang as the preacher stormed out. The elderly boss of the Port Mafia chuckled to himself.

"Told you," he simply said. His words were directed at Mori.

"W-what's going to happen to him?" the young Chuuya asked his caretaker silently. She just shook her head in reply. Because she didn't know and frankly, it was to none of their concern.

* * *

Mori was not able to stop thinking about the young boy that had been the vessel of the preacher's abilities. There was something about him that spoke to him. In no way was it affection. He couldn't claim to have that sort of feeling towards anyone.

No, there was something else. Something about his silent acceptance to what could only be described as torment in the hands of the preacher. The lack of feeling was something the Port Mafia greatly valued.

Maybe the visit from the preacher hadn't been so unfruitful after all?

Already the next day, Mori's plans of recruiting the youngling were discussed in a meeting with the executives. Most of them seemed reluctant. They already had a child in training. But their leader, who had witnessed the event the day prior, agreed to Mori's suggestion.

That settled that. Mori was going to offer an undisclosed amount of money for the boy. He felt that it was way too generous, as the preacher had no longer use for the boy. After all, he was no longer able to make "God" appear, with the image being muffled with his father.

A car was sent to pick up the doctor to take him to the church. No time should be wasted, as there was no guarantee for the child's life anymore, after yesterday's events.

If they had gotten there five minutes later, it would already have been too late.

* * *

Dazai could not stand up anymore. He could hardly even crawl. His punishment for last night's failure had proceeded long into the night.

He only just woke up. His body was bleeding. He had no idea from where. It seemed like everywhere. His shoulder was broken, he noted, as well as his leg probably. The smell of burnt skin was still residing in his nostrils, and he grabbed his neck with horror as the memories of everything that had happened during the night came back to him.

He couldn't do this anymore. His father would kill him. He had known for some time now that his father's powers were not exactly what he claimed them to be, but this was the first time that it had manifested itself against his will. Dazai had stopped believing in God, which made his fear of him non-existent. What he truly feared, was his father.

As usual, his punishment had been carried out in the belfry. He eyed the large bells surrounding him. The sound of their chimes had always made him uneasy. Any time he would hear them- feel them- the vibrations of their chimes, it would make his body tremble. His own heartbeats would muffle with the feeling, and made him unable to decipher between the trembles of the large brass and his actual heartbeats. A trail of blood followed him as he dragged his body across the floor to get nearer the opening that let the chimes of the bells ring out into the city.

This time, he was going to do it. No turning back. No second thoughts. His father was not going to be the one to end his life. If his life would come to an end, it would be by his_ own_ hands.

He looked down on the graveled path, 30 feet below him. He estimated that the drop would be enough. His already battered body would be unfeeling in the air, before, hopefully, his head would hit the ground first, killing him instantly. No pain beyond the initial hit.

He took a deep breath. He had no idea what would happen once he died. His father had promised him eternal suffering, but he was sure it couldn't be worse than staying here.

This was it.

With the little strength that was left in his body, he forced himself to stand. He didn't even need to jump. His body just collapsed over the edge. He embraced himself in the feeling of weightlessness and waited for the impact to take him away from this God forsaken place.

* * *

He woke up on a hard table. It felt like it was made of steel. He was undressed except for the bandages, under a sheet that covered the lower half of his body.

His head hurt. His ribs hurt. His arms hurt. His legs hurt. It would probably take less time to count the parts of him that didn't hurt.

A tall man stood and looked down on him. He was lean and had black hair, slicked back and reaching his shoulders. He had a sick grin on his face, as he eyed Dazai from top to bottom.

"Wh-what?" Dazai was able to stutter. He could hardly make out what his own voice was saying. It was so weak, _so pathetic_.

His latest memories came back to him, watching the bells and falling to his death. He had clearly failed.

"Shh," the lean man said, with his finger raised to his own lips. "Don't talk. Your body has been through a lot of trauma."

The words of the older man didn't quite fit the smile on his face, Dazai noted and wondered greatly about it.

"Who..." he whispered but was not able to get any more words out. His chest ached and his breath caught.

"I'm Dr. Mori," the man said. "You met me a couple of days ago, remember? I will be taking care of you while you recover from your... fall."

A hint of recognition could be seen on what was not covered behind the bandages of the young boy's face.

"It's quite impressive, though," the man scoffed. "It seems like you have God on your side, in spite of everything. You shouldn't have survived from a fall from that height."

Sure, the strange doctor was smiling, but his voice sounded like poison. It made Dazai's skin crawl, and he wanted nothing more than to get out of there as soon as possible.

"F-father?" Dazai's shaky voice asked. He wasn't sure if it was from the injuries or fear.

The doctor shook his head. "Don't worry about him anymore. From now on, you're staying here with us. As soon as you are healthy enough, we will start your training."

"Training?"

"Yes. Welcome to the Port Mafia, kid."

* * *

Chuuya was curious about the new boy. He stayed at the infirmary, and Master Mori had told him that he couldn't train yet. The short redhead wondered if it had anything to do with what had happened a couple of weeks ago with that preacher, but he didn't dare to ask.

Maybe he could sneak in for a small peek, just to say hello. It must be lonely do stay by yourself in the infirmary for this long. Also, Master Mori was out on a mission, so he wouldn't know. He was sure the boy wouldn't tell.

He looked around in the long hallway. No one was in sight, so he opened the door slowly and quickly looked inside to make sure that there was nobody else in the room.

A beeping noise came from behind a curtained divider and something behind it seemed to shift.

"H-hello?" a weak voice said.

Maybe he shouldn't do this. Chuuya wondered if he should leave, but something told him not to.

"Hi," Chuuya said tryingly as he closed the door behind him. "I'm sorry, I'm not really supposed to be in here."

He walked hesitantly over to the bed and gasped at the sight of the boy.

His head and his right eye were bandaged, like before, but now it seemed like every inch of the kid in front of him had a bandage, gauze or a cast on it.

The boy lowered his head in shame. The small smile that had appeared on his face the minute he had seen Chuuya disappeared.

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to do that," Chuuya hurried to say. "What happened to you?"

The boy in the bed didn't answer.

"I'm Chuuya," he tried instead. This made the boy look up.

"D-Dazai. My name is Dazai"

The two boys looked at each other and smiled. Being a child in the Port Mafia could be lonely, but Chuuya got the feeling that he wouldn't feel so alone now. Not anymore.

* * *

Dazai woke up with a jolt. The suddenness of the movement made his back pulsate and his breath hitch.

Hands forced him back into the softness beneath him, and inaudible voices were talking to him. He had no idea what was going on, and in spite of the pain that ran through his body, he tried to fight back as the panic grew to an almost unbearable level.

Someone held his arm down, and a prick was felt in his arm.

"M-Mori?" Dazai whispered, as whatever had been injected into him quickly took control of his body and led him back into a deep nightmare-fueled slumber.

* * *

"How's he been doing today?" Kunikida asked as he entered the hospital room. Ranpo was seated next to Dazai's sleeping form, tilting the chair on its two back legs.

"He doesn't even know where he is. They had to sedate him," the short black-haired man said with a small frown.

"That's odd. He seemed okay yesterday," Kunikida grumbled while stroking his chin.

"I don't know. He asked about someone named Mori, and he's been blabbering prayers none stop. Didn't even know he was religious," the shorter man shrugged. "Well, I'm off. See you tomorrow!" Ranpo jumped to his feet and skipped out of the room. Kunikida was almost envious of his ability to seemingly be so unfaced by anything in the world. He seemed so carefree all the time. The only times he would lose his cool were if his candy stash was running low.

Kunikida took off his blazer and rolled his sleeves up before he sat on the chair. '_Prayers, huh_?' he thought with a deep furrow between his eyebrows.

Sure, Dazai looked feverish, but he had seen him with a fever before. That didn't usually turn him that delirious. Certainly not _religious_.

'_That church_,' he finally realized. That could not be a coincidence. Kunikida didn't believe in coincidences. If only his idiot-partner would wake up soon, so he could ask him about it. For now, what he could do was make a couple of phone calls. He needed to find out who this Mori was, which Fukusawa could probably answer.

He wondered if there was any chance that the ginger kid would reveal something, but considering how close Dazai already held his cards to his chest, he seriously doubted that. Also, why would the Port Mafia have anything to do with the church? It didn't quite fit.

_Ah_, these magical times of the Internet. A quick search told him what the outside world knew about the history of the church. Nothing much of importance. It had been abandoned for over ten years. There were a couple of instances of squatters breaking in and vandalism.

Dazai started to move on the bed. Kunikida quickly shifted his attention back to his co-worker.

"Dazai?" he called. Tired eyes looked back up at him. His fringe shifted to the side, revealing a pale scar across his forehead and right eye that Kunikida had never noticed before.

"Hey," Dazai mumbled while reaching for the remote control to the bed. Kunikida helped him, raising the back of the bed slightly so Dazai could sit more upright.

"It feels like someone knocked me out," he complained with a yawn, rubbing his eyes.

"They had you drugged for a while. You were delirious."

"Really?" Dazai chuckled. "I never can remember when they're giving me the good stuff."

"Apparently, you were praying." Kunikida crossed his arms and sat back in the chair, glaring at Dazai, waiting for some kind of sign that the facade was cracking.

Dazai let out a nervous laugh. "They really must have given me the good stuff then, huh?"

"Would you blame me for finding it a bit strange that you are praying in your sleep after having been thrown off the roof of a church?"

Dazai's smile didn't budge. "No, not really."

"And what about the name, Mori?"

_There it was_, a twitch in the creak of his smile. The crack he was looking for. That name had woken something inside Dazai.

"Mori? He is the current boss of the Port Mafia. Must have dreamt something," Dazai explained.

He always had all the answers. Right there on the tip of his tongue. Rehearsed, ready to go.

Kunikida was not satisfied. Somehow he was going to get to the bottom of this. Whatever 'this' was. Why his partner was acting so strange. Stranger than usual. Why he kept disappearing. Who had tried to kill him? Dazai's reluctance to cooperate only made the desire to unravel all of this even greater.

"What are you thinking about?" Dazai asked, interrupting his train of thoughts.

Kunikida breathed through his nose, chewing on the inside of his chin.

"That you're lying," he said honestly, shooting a poisonous stare over the rim of his glasses.

Dazai only laughed.

"Yeah," he said, smiling.


	8. Chapter 8

**(I have decided to age up Kouyou to make her fit into the story better. I've learned a lot about BSD while writing this, all though I still have much confusion about the storyline and many of the characters. I have not finished the manga or novel(s?) yet. With that in mind- I'd just like to remind anyone reading that all though some things might be true to the story- most of it is not).**

**And also, I am inspired these days, so I'm spamming your inboxes with updates and I like it!**

* * *

It was another two months until Chuuya saw Dazai again. He could hardly recognize him, sitting in a wheelchair and being rolled through the garden by Master Mori. The doctor seemed to have taken a special liking to the dark-haired boy, and spent almost all of his time with him.

Dark eyes stared into the air in front of him at nothing. He seemed completely closed-in on himself and Chuuya wondered what the master had done to him. Nothing good, that much was clear.

Also, Dazai _never_ seemed to be healing. During the next weeks, Chuuya would see him out of the room he had been moved to more frequently. Always accompanied by Mori. He looked worse for wear every time.

Chuuya had tried to wave to him a couple of times but received a smack over the head by Kouyou, his teacher and caretaker. Apparently, they still weren't actually allowed to interact. That was, until one day, Dazai was being wheeled into the library where Chuuya was studying, together with Kouyou.

"I thought it was time for you two to finally greet each other properly," Mori said with the same smile he usually bore. Chuuya looked timidly up at the man, as he positioned the wheelchair in front of the small coffee table across from them.

"After all, if everything goes according to our plans for you boys- you might spend a lot of time together in the future, once your training is complete."

Dazai didn't look up and Chuuya wondered if he even recognized him and what plans Master Mori spoke of. But, he knew better than to ask questions.

"Thank you, Master Mori," Chuuya answered politely, as the older man left the room.

"Hey," he said weakly and reached his arm out to shake Dazai's hand to keep the illusion that they had never actually met.

Dazai flinched so violently at the movement that Chuuya jumped in his seat.

"_Don't_ touch me!"

Dazai's breath became erratic, as he quickly raised his fist to his mouth and started chewing on a frail and bandaged hand.

Even the usually stoic Kouyou seemed startled at the unexpected reaction before she sighed greatly and tried to smile reassuringly.

"Don't do that, please. You'll hurt yourself," she raised a steady hand and carefully reached out and lowered Dazai's hand. He still startled a bit, but he seemed like he had snapped out of the trance he was in.

He hesitantly obliged, and let his hand fall to his lap.

"S-sorry, I-I don't know what happened." His voice was barely more than a whisper, but he finally got a hold of himself and looked up at the alarmed red-haired boy. '_Sorry_', he mouthed again, soundless.

"It seems like Dazai-san has started his training with Master Mori," Kouyou explained in a hushed voice to her student, as if that explained anything.

This was certainly not the kind of training Chuuya received himself. Sure, it was _hard_ and he was pressed to his limits through the sparring-sessions, but _this_? Whatever was seated across from him, had already been pushed_ far beyond_ that. Even Chuuya could see that.

And still- it had only _just started._

* * *

"Dazai? What are you doing?"

The young teen laying with his eyes shut didn't answer.

"Dazai?"

Chuuya walked further into the room, peering at the bandaged mess on the bed.

"Shh, I'm dead."

Dazai hardly moved but shut his eyes even tighter.

"What?"

Chuuya made a grimace, nose wrinkling at the strange antics of his soon-to-be partner.

"I'm dead!"

Dazai raised his voice slightly.

"But, you're _not_."

"Sure I am."

This was _clearly_ not getting Chuuya _anywhere_.

"Why do you wanna be dead?"

"Why do _you_ wanna be alive?"

Chuuya didn't like that answer. Or question. Or whatever it was.

"I don't think I like this game."

"Not a game. I'm dead. I've decided."

* * *

Dazai hadn't opened his eyes the whole day. He was dead-set on boring whoever was babysitting him today, to death. Or, _preferably_, just to leave. He didn't actually care that much anymore.

He was tired of this hospital, he was tired of being under constant observation, he was tired of having pains and he was tired of being scared to fall asleep in case he would reveal anything else in his subconscious state.

There was a sound of someone shifting in the chair beside the bed. Someone was getting up. Dazai held his breath for a moment, listening intently to what was going on. The door opened and the door closed.

'_Was it time for them to switch already?_', Dazai thought, and carefully peeked with one eye, until he quickly squeezed it shut as the door handle was pushed down and the door opened again.

He waited quietly for whoever had taken over for Kunikida (_probably? He sure grunted like Kunikida_), to take a seat and make any sort of noise to reveal him or herself, whoever it was.

_And he waited and waited and waited, until..._

"You're not dead."

Dazai stirred at the familiarity of that statement, before tightening his lips in a small pout, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Yeah, I am. This time, it's real."

"Stupid bastard..."

* * *

The drugs they were pumping him full of (_because he still wasn't allowed to take the pills_) … (or _not_ take the pills which were the _actual_ problem) made him impossibly sleepy. Shortly after Chuuya had arrived, the phone-cleptomaniac-nurse entered and gave him another dose.

So, Dazai fell asleep.

He had no idea for how long he had slept, but when the short redhead shook him awake, it was dark out.

"Dazai?" he called, both hands shaking fatigue shoulders as the dark-haired man tried to force himself out of whatever hell he had been trapped in moments before.

"Hey, come on, wake up!" _One slap on the right cheek, one slap on the left._

"I-I'm here. I'm here," Dazai rasped sleepily as he locked his arms around Chuuya's, using him as an anchor back to reality.

"_Shit_, Kunikida said you had some serious nightmares," Chuuya sighed. "But that was a bit much, _huh_?"

Dazai looked confused. "Did I have a nightmare?" he asked stupidly.

The glare that shot back was nothing less than disbelieving. "_Yeah_, you're like, resiting the entire Bible in your sleep, mackerel."

"Dammit!" Dazai covered his face with his hands. He had done _that_ again? "Yeah, I tend to that these days."

Chuuya crossed his legs, rocking his left leg restlessly on top of the right.

"So, what's the plan? This clearly can't continue and-" Chuuya shot a look back at the door, making sure it was shut. Lowering his voice, he whispered, "Apparently, Mori has met with your father again."

The somewhat normal skin tone that Dazai had gotten back to his face, drained right back out of it.

"None of them came out of that alive, I hope," he mumbled, desperately fighting an ever losing battle with his mind to stay composed. 

"_Shut the fuck up,_ mackerel. I'm risking my_ ass_ telling you this-"

Dazai rolled his eyes. He never knew where he had Chuuya these days and the feeling was probably mutual. But, never the less, he was grateful for the heads up.

"They know you're alive, Dazai. They've joined forces..."

* * *

**Short chapter- really sorry for leaving you all hanging like this, but I needed to get it out in the world. The next chapter needs some work for everything to come together as I want it to do, and this chapter is what I needed right now.  
**  
**Until next time, stay awesome!**


	9. Chapter 9

I'm moving in a week, so this will probably be the last update for a little while! But, who knows? I am the Major of the procrastination nation, so I might find myself impossibly inspired right in the middle of the cleanout of the apartment. Knowing myself, I probably will.

* * *

Õgai Mori, a former doctor and now the boss of the Port Mafia, was seated by his grand mahogany desk in his office. By his side, stood Elise, a young girl in a pretty red dress and the manifestation of his ability.

His eyes were focused at a faint stain on the polished wood after a coffee cup had been sat there without a coster on the unnecessarily expensive desk. It wasn't that it bothered him. If he could choose, it wouldn't be there, but right now, it was somewhere to concentrate his gaze while he thought through the events that had occurred the last few days.

Somehow, that incompetent old man had made his way into his office, two days ago. He was sure he had rid himself of that pest over ten years ago.

He had left him to bleed out on his own altar after a_ very unfortunate _accident with his Glock the same day he had taken in his half-dead son. _So clumsy of him._

Something inside his head had snapped at the sight of the young body falling through the air. After he had decided that he wanted the boy, he already thought of him as _his_ and the preacher had no right to damage anything of _his_.

Before leaving the HQ, he had every intention of paying the preacher. When the old man delivered damaged goods- the old man had to pay instead. That was how it worked when doing business with the Port Mafia.

And after all this time, the preacher had returned. The preacher had returned to kill him. He was going to kill Mori and take Dazai back.

Mori had obviously laughed in the old man's face and told him that the Port Mafia didn't have a fucking return policy _(and even if they did, he was too late. The kid was an expired ware_).

He had been playing with the thought of offering him Elise, just to taunt him. But, he knew from the preacher's obvious self-hatred and the damages that had been done to his son's body, that the old man didn't lean that way.

He felt sick just thinking about it.

With that, his thoughts drifted back to the first time he treated Dazai. It was that same day. If the kid didn't survive, he swore that he would go back there and kill the preacher one more time (_which he now knew he should have done anyway_).

Even though Mori had known that a fall from that hight was not enough to ensure fatality, there was no way to know for sure when Dazai was so young and had suffered much physical abuse prior to his suicide attempt.

The blood loss was not compatible with the fall. Also, the head trauma didn't fit the way he had landed. Mori was there to witness when Dazai hit the ground, and he had clearly landed with his feet first. That wouldn't cause his skull to fracture. _And it certainly wouldn't leave burn marks all over his abdomen, back, and neck._

The broken legs, pelvis, spine and elbow- yes. Maybe the shoulder too. But _carvings of fucking bible verses_ into the skin was _not common fucking injuries after failed suicide attempts_. It was the _cause_ of them.

When the prior boss had found out everything, he had ordered Mori to continue down the path that was started by the preacher.

He wanted the boy tortured to the point that pain was all he knew. Tortured to the point where pain and suffering were more familiar than love and comfort. To the point where the boy didn't know anything else.

_The Boss wanted an unfeeling human weapon. So that's what Mori gave him._

Learning about the boy's ability to nullify all other abilities had been quite the bonus. Obviously, it was a bit annoying under his training when they had realized and their entire training plan had to be changed- but it proved to be very helpful never the less.

Also, it was his only mean of protection. They had taught him martial arts and self-defense, but his body was weak from malnourishment and frail from all the injuries he had sustained through his life.

So, they ran with it. If Dazai was going to be fragile, he had to learn to work with it, make it his strength- _and he had._

And now, out of the blue- two days ago; that weak, stupid and useless preacher was standing in front of this very coffee-stained desk, demanding to get back Mori's single greatest creation- and- disappointment.

The man who had started it all.

'_The man whos powers worked on Dazai_', he had realized. With everything that had happened while trying to save Dazai's life, making sure he was even able to walk again and then starting the training and realizing that the boy had his ability- Mori had never even realized that Dazai had been the victim of his father's ability for all of those years.

That was why the preacher had gotten Mori's attention that day. The_ only_ reason Mori had not killed him right then and there. Obviously, Mori was not going to ask the preacher about it yet, that would make him think he had the upper hand.

He would see this through. After all, they _did_ have a common interest.

_Either, Dazai needed to be on their side, or, they needed him to be dead._

* * *

Chuuya looked at the full tray of food that had been pushed aside from Dazai's bed.

"Do you eat?"

Chuuya looked suspiciously at Dazai in the hospital bed. His body had always been a bit frail, but sometimes it looked weaker than others. _Thinner_.

"You just can't help yourself, can you, carrot top?" Dazai spat back, more amused than annoyed.

Chuuya shot back a stare he hoped might prove deadly.

"I've seen chicken legs with more fat on them than you."

Dazai reached his tongue out. He slumped down in the bed and pouted.

"The hospital food is... Squishy."

"Squishy?"

"Yeah."

Chuuya didn't look completely satisfied with that explanation.

"Come on chibi, it's a perfectly good word," Dazai said determinedly.

Chuuya rolled his eyes. "No, and please stop calling me that!"

"What, chibi? Come on, you're 22 years old. You have to realize that you're not still growing, _chibi._"

Chuuya's cheeks were puffed and flustered with anger.

"See? Just like your cheeks are right now, chibi! _Squishy_!" Dazai sang happily, reaching out to deflate them with his index fingers as there was a knock on the door.

Both of them immediately looked to the door on high alert.

It slowly opened, revealing a man with long gray hair.

"President," Dazai exclaimed innocently and retracted his hands.

Fukuzawa looked suspiciously at the redhead seated at the bedside and approached.

Chuuya was clearly uncomfortable but got up and wearily reached out a hand to greet the ADA president anyway.

"My name is chib... _Fuck_! My name is Chuuya! I'm _Nakahara Chuuya_," he exclaimed as his cheeks turned crimson red and he mumbled curses under his breath while sitting down in the chair in complete disgrace, hanging his face low and covering his face with a gloved hand.

Dazai's grin was wide and victorious.

"I know who you are, Nakahara Chuuya," Fukuzawa said sternly, mostly to establish dominance, before shifting his attention back to Dazai.

"I'd like to speak to you,_ in private_," he added, glaring back at the Port Mafia executive.

Chuuya scoffed, trying to recover from the embarrassment, and folded his arms.

"_Great_, I have more important things to attend to, than to prevent stickman over here from going fully hangman on our asses anyway," he shrugged, getting up and giving a short wave while walking to the door.

"See you soon, Strawberry Shortcake!" Dazai waved back.

Four of five fingers folded from Chuuya's wave right before he slammed the door shut.

"Redheads are always so feisty," Dazai smirked at his superior. Fukuzawa shook his head in disapproval, before settling on the uncomfortable plastic chair.

Dazai sighed at the lack of response, "So, Ranpo and Kunikida have been tattling?" he asked instead, unconsciously scratching his bandaged neck. As soon as he realized that the notion did not go unnoticed by Fukuzawa, he lowered his hand.

"Yes, they have told me about your feverish ramblings," he stated, "and I have to admit, that I am concerned about you, Dazai."

Dazai's smile didn't budge. "Sunday school, you know."

"And what about the mentions of the Port Mafia boss, Mori?"

Dazai frowned and raised his shoulders, "He is a handsome man. I was never _that great_ of a Sunday school student."

Kunikida slapped his face with his palm. "You are so full of bull-"

"_Language_, boss," Dazai scolded. "I have sensitive Sunday School ears."

Fukuzawa had never been closer to share Kunikida's desperate annoyance with Dazai. He got back to his feet and took a few laps around the room while trying not to lose his usually- _so mild_\- temper.

"Dazai..."

* * *

Dazai wished people would stop saying his name in that tone. As if he had done something wrong. For once in his life, he knew what he was doing was _right._

Sure, _they_ would probably not see it that way, but if they'd known... Nothing good would come from that. Which was another thing he couldn't tell them, which they also would probably disagree with.

After Fukuzawa had left, he had finally been left alone for the first time in over a week.

He let the bed lower so he could lay straight, his back thanking him and his head being less grateful. He let the dizzyness settle while breathing deeply, easing the nausea that came with it.

Chuuya already knew too much, but hopefully, Mori didn't know that. In which case, Chuuya was safe(_not that he cared or anything_). All though, the slug would probably do something stupid anyway...

For the first time in several weeks, he allowed himself to try and make sense of this whole situation.

Mori had told him years ago that his father was killed when he was retrieved from the church. That was obviously not true.

Why was his father back? Where had he been and why the hell (_language, Dazai_) would he try and find him? He hadn't been of any use for that bastard since the day he first met the Port Mafia, which had been made perfectly clear that same night, before his first... attempt of relief. Of peace, salvation and, just... to be left alone.

'_What is happening to me?_' Dazai thought while looking out the window to his right. '_Am I finally truly losing my mind_?'

_No_. That had already happened years ago. _There was no mind left to lose_.

Dazai chuckled at the thought. '_Very well then, no mind left to lose means that there is nothing else left to lose.._.'

* * *

The next day, Kunikida got a call. He threw his phone violently on the floor after listening for about a minute. Scared, disbelieving and concerned eyes looked at the man, as he stomped out of the room, through the hallway and straight into Fukuzawa's office.

After a couple of minutes, Fukuzawa came out of the room, leaving Kunikida to calm down inside.

"I need everyone to be ready within 10 minutes," he declared. "Dazai is missing."


	10. Chapter 10

Dazai limped as fast as he could over the garden at the grand estate that had been his home for the past three years.

He had been good. He had been _so good_. Done everything they told him too. Spoke when told to speak, shut up when told to shut up._ Fucking barked when told to bark._

But, even he had his limits.

_Kill when told to kill_. No, he just couldn't. How could they expect him to kill a defenseless animal?

The dog had been caged. It looked so defeated. Given up, abused, tired, starving, just like himself. They might as well tell him to kill himself. But he knew they would never give him that satisfaction.

He had lost count of how many times he had tried now. Nothing ever worked. Hanging, overdosing, drowning, starving, cutting his main artery, bag over the head and stabbed himself. Once, he'd been so desperate that he tried to knock himself to death by slamming his head repeatedly into a brick wall. Obviously, which he realized after the fact, he hadn't been in his right mind. It should have been pretty clear that he would lose consciousness long before he would actually die.

_He never could do anything right._

_Oh god, that poor dog._

Stumbling down a small hill between Kouyou's flowerbeds, he ran towards the gazebo and huddled down behind it, drawing his sore knees to his chest, resting his arm that was in a sling in his lap behind them and buried his face in the arm he left on top of his knees.

_'Excellent camouflage, stupid- no one will ever find you here_', he ridiculed himself, but couldn't move. His breathing was too quick and before doing anything else, he just needed to _calm down_.

"Hey kiddo, you alright there?"

Dazai startled and pressed his back against the gazebo as his head snapped up towards the sound.

It was a young man, older than himself. He was tall, had auburn hair, beard stubbles on his cheek and greyish eyes that looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern.

Dazai couldn't remember ever seeing him before and his tan coat didn't fit in with the black ones usually worn by the members of the Port Mafia. That didn't mean he could be trusted, though. Or maybe it meant he_ definitely_ couldn't trust him. _Shit, he didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore. _

"You okay? You seemed a little distraught over here," the man smiled and crouched down in front of him, as his arm moved from his side and proceeded towards Dazai.

Dazai quickly braced himself for whatever he was going to do to him, but was surprised when his rowdy bangs were gently brushed away from his face.

With weary eyes, Dazai peeked up on the man, still on guard.

"My name is Sakunosuke Oda, but, most people just call me Oda."

His smile didn't budge. It was unnerving for Dazai. The only smile he was used to was Mori's twisted plastered-on and stiff one. This one seemed… _genuine? Could that really be, in this house of horror?_ He decided not to say anything yet, just to be safe.

Oda chuckled mildly. "I'm new. I just got hired. You don't have to be shy."

Voices were heard closing in on them, yelling his name in an indecipherable tone. Dazai curled more tightly in on himself.

"Is that you? Dazai?" Oda asked, and looked towards where the voices were coming from.

"You probably shouldn't be seen with me," Dazai's weak voice said, peeking up from where he had placed his face against his knees. "You might get in trouble."

Oda looked at him with keening eyes, before getting up and meeting Mori as he turned the corner to the gazebo.

"Oh," Mori exclaimed. "Sakunosuke Oda. How nice to see you again."

"Dr. Mori," he smiled. "I just had the pleasure of meeting this bright young man," he said, gesturing to the trembling boy in the grass.

"Really? Yes, he certainly is a bright young man. Now, if you will excuse us, we have some training to get back to," Mori's eyes hardened as he looked down on Dazai. "Come on, Dazai._ Recess_ is over."

Dazai got up on shaky knees, obediently following his mentor back to the house. Looking over his shoulder one last time, he could see Oda give him a short wave, looking deep in thought as they disappeared back into the mansion.

* * *

_The dog wasn't as defenseless as he had thought._

The furry body laid, finally unmoving, in a bloodied pile. A few feet in front, with his back turned away from it, sat Dazai in his own pool of blood.

His body was covered in bites and scratches. Most noticeably, his face had several bleeding wounds, and his inner thigh had a deep bite mark.

He sobbed quietly, holding the small butter knife he'd been given as his only weapon in a tight grip. The taste of bile was in his mouth, and he could only shift slightly before he retched and started to throw up all over the floor and himself.

As soon as his stomach had settled, he scooted away from the vomit and further from the cadaver before he hurled the knife with all the force that was left in his body to the wall. It chimed sharply as it bounced off the wall and landed somewhere behind him.

The sobbing was less quiet now, but he didn't care. He wanted to scream until his voice gave out. Wanted to shout and curse and cry and laugh and... die. _He just wanted this to be over._

If only Master Mori would come back and let him out soon. See how good he had done. Maybe then... it wouldn't be so bad. Mori always praised him when doing good, and he had, hadn't he?

He'd been sitting there for several hours, but Mori had still not shown up. The floor was cold and his entire body was covered in goosebumps- _blood_ and goosebumps. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to travel to his happy place.

_It was in the garden, except, the mansion wasn't there. He imagined that it had burned down with everyone in the Port Mafia still in it. He had locked the doors himself._

_It was just him and Chuuya, teasing each other, laughing and playing soccer. How long had it been since they had been allowed to play together? Probably more than a year. They were still talking, studying together sometimes, but, they were never able to actually enjoy themselves anymore._

_To his surprise, a tan coat appeared into the picture. The auburn hair waving slightly in the refreshing wind, smiling reassuringly at them and standing with his hands in his pockets._

_How he wished he had that coat now._

Dazai snapped back to reality. But, not to the dark room with the dead dog. No, _the reality._

The reality where Chuuya and himself had been bitter enemies for years. The reality where Oda was dead. _The reality where his father had seemingly rose from his grave._

The reality where he was chained to the wall in the belfry, just like he had been as a child.

* * *

The first place Kunikida wanted the agency to look, was at the dorms. History tended to repeat itself. Even if he had his doubts, he wouldn't do the mistake of not checking, like the last time.

He sent Tanizaki and Naomi to check there (actually, he had sent Tanizaki to check, but he would not get into whatever fucked-up relationship the two siblings had when Naomi automatically followed).

Initially, he had tried to send Ranpo and Kenji to the hospital to search for any leads over there, but Ranpo had blatantly refused. He thought his abilities were needed elsewhere. So, in his place, he had to send Kyouka.

Fukuzawa had an important meeting but told them to call him whenever they found something of importance, and that he would be there as soon as possible if he was needed.

That left himself, Atsushi, Yosano, and Ranpo.

Kunikida thought carefully through their next step. He knew they needed to go back to that ominous church. Also, it would probably (unfortunately) be useful to make another phone call to that unbelievably condescending mafioso, Nakahara Chuuya. If nothing else, just to let him know what was going on. Something told Kunikida that he wouldn't be the worst person to have on their side in a potential confrontation. Either with the _stubborn idiot_ or potentially, _his attacker._

"So, Ranpo. What do you think?" he asked, turning to the brown-clad man, sitting with his legs folded on his desk with a lollipop in his mouth.

"I never thought you would ask," he grinned and reached ceremoniously for his black-rimmed glasses, imagining the air around him shifting into a small whirlwind swirling around his body and mumbling the name of his 'ability' _ultra-deduction._

The rest of the group acted impressed and cheered him on, a little less eagerly than usual.

"He didn't escape by himself this time. Considering his injuries, and the complications of them after his last escape, he is in no way able to move around by himself. He was abducted." Ranpo hesitated and took off his glasses with a frown, to the other's confusion.

"They must be defected or something," he said, wiping off the glass and peering at them suspiciously.

"What did you see?" Atsushi asked.

"I didn't," he confessed. "Well, kinda. I'm not sure."

"Just... tell us. Maybe it will be useful, even if your glasses are... broken," Kunikida tried.

Ranpo hesitated while his teeth started to crunch as he began to chew at the lollipop.

"I don't know..."

"Oh come on!" Kunikida snapped. Yosano's hand grabbed his shoulder painfully tight, letting her nails bury themselves into his skin.

"_Sweety,_" she said pleasantly. "It would probably be more helpful if you told us what you_ think_ than nothing at all. Maybe we could piece something together."

Ranpo sighed. "Okay. Well, I _think_ that Dazai _might_ have been raised in a strictly religious household, based on his knowledge of bible passages and prayers. And, I _guess_ that it _possibly_ could have something to do with whoever pushed him from the Shinja Church. That makes it _fairly possible_ that the church has something to do with his past. Maybe his father was a preacher?"

"That actually makes sense," Kunikida mumbled.

"It_ could_ also explain why Dazai has most of his body covered with bandages. It's no secret that Dazai has hurt himself a great deal. We've all witnessed his creative ways of trying to end himself, so it's not a greatly hidden secret that he has a lot of scars, so why cover them up?" Ranpo thought out loud.

"What do you mean?" Atsushi asked, sitting down on a nearby chair. He didn't like this kind of talk about his mentor and wasn't sure if his legs would hold if something more gruesome was revealed.

"It's not like the Christian church haven't had a history of pretty torturous violence. If his father was an extremist, which isn't unlikely considering the specific Bible verses Dazai resited in his sleep..."

Atsushi was starting to pale.

"That's enough," Kunikida said sternly. "We've heard enough. Atsushi; I want you to call the others and ask them to meet us at the Shinja church when they have completed their tasks. They probably won't find anything, but we need to make sure. Let's get to the cars. No matter if Ranpo is right or not, we have no time to lose..."

* * *

**Told Ya! I'm supposed to be packing up my apartment and starting to clean right now, but here I am, writing fanfiction while (somewhat) tipsy on red wine. Gosh, what wouldn't I do to escape adulthood.**

**We are closing in on the end! But, I recently read a fanfiction where the author statet something in the lines of "sometimes the characters just tells me what they want to do themselves", and I found myself agreeing With that. So, I'm sorry if I'm dragging it out. I just really like writing this story for all of you! **

**Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment/review to let me know how you like it!**

**Stay awesome! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Only two days left until moving day, so- here is another chappy! ** **Such an amazingly good adult. Just adultin' all over the place.**

* * *

_The door to the cool, tiled room opened and a familiar face appeared in the opening. A small streak of light shone on the battered face of the young teenager who sat, cradling himself on the floor._

_Dazai's worried face snapped up as Mori entered the room. A twitchy but relieved smile became visible on the teens face in recognition, and Mori smiled back. Something seemed off though. Something in Mori's eyes._

_Regret? Maybe even sorrow?_

_Dazai's faint smile morphed into a scream, as another dog was released into the room. _

* * *

Mori stood expressionless and watched their prisoner. He had been fading in and out of consciousness since they arrived. The lack of smart remarks and smirks from his former apprentice was unnerving, to say the least. It was as if he was looking at the broken ten-year-old who he had saved from the very same man he now had returned him to, so many years ago.

Abducting him from the hospital had been easier than expected. As soon as The Babysitters Club had dispatched, he seemingly had free range. It turned out that there weren't many safety precautions there at all. Mori had walked in, wearing his old white coat and been assumed to be a doctor at the hospital. The elderly receptionist had not hesitated when giving up the room number, and he had walked in, injected the sleeping ADA agent with a mild tranquilizer, unhooked him from any tubes and wires and walked out of there with him in a wheelchair.

It was so easy that it almost felt anticlimactic. It only made him happy that the Port Mafia had their own medical wing, with a large staff and all the facilities necessary to treat any kind of sickness or injury.

_The Armed Detective Agency clearly needed to step up their game._

The preacher himself was a big disappointment too. The large and intimidating figure was reduced to nothing more than a hunchbacked old man, who was clearly a _little_ out of touch with reality and _completely_ insane.

At the moment he was downstairs at the altar, switching between preaching and speaking in tongues to an imaginary congregation.

Mori chuckled. He had never in his life believed in any God.

Calmly, he walked towards Dazai, silently assessing his injuries and how much time he had left, if left in this hopeless state.

He reminisced about the first time he had seen Dazai. He passed the old church at random on his way to a mission, while a Sunday service had just finished. The preacher had stood grand and stoic, shaking every single hand as the crowd of people passed on their way out. Behind him stood a boy with half of his face covered in bandages, leaning heavily on crutches.

His black suit made him transparent with the dark walls of the church as he stood, terrified of meeting anyone's gaze. Almost invisible, to anyone but Mori.

To Mori, he shone bright like a firefly in the night. A forsaken soul, a fractured mind and an unforgivable sinner. _He was perfect._

Mori asked around about the strange pair. It appeared that this preacher was well known in the more extremist Christian societies of the city at the time. The ones who longed and grasped at something or anything to save them and prove their faith. They would believe anything they were told (_or shown, in this case, which further fueled the preacher's narcissism_).

This was also the reason no one knew his actual name. In his everyday life, he had taken the name Gen'emon Tsushima (1), and he called Dazai, Shuji (2). But, he wanted to be known simply as the preacher. _The_ Preacher. The _one_ and _only_. He could show them God, but in his own mind, he probably was the man himself. There was no one registered by those names in Yokohama, it was not much research needed to find that out. He would only call Dazai by his real name whenever he was 'performing', an act that was exclusive and _very_ expensive.

From that point forward, the arrangements had been easy, and Mori had manipulated the situation to seem like any other of the preacher's… _gigs_. The fact that the boy's mind had turned on his father was simply a very lucky coincidence.

Mori sighed and looked at the loosening bandages on Dazai's forearms. Every single day of Dazai's life was sketched onto his body in scars.

The leader of the Port Mafia scoffed as an ominous smile came to show on his lips.

* * *

"_What has Skindiana Bones done this time?_" sneered an aggravated Chuuya as he answered the phone.

"I might borrow that sometime," Kunikida mumbled as he waited for the rest of the agency to get seated into the cars.

"_Shut your face or tell me what's going on_."

"I wish I could, but I don't really know. Dazai disappeared from the hospital again sometime during the night."

_"__I'm shocked,_" he said nonchalantly, "_but, I haven't heard anything from the bonehead._"

"We're going to The Shinja church right now, we've looked everywhere else."

Kunikida waited for a reply. When it didn't come any, he continued.

"I thought you might like to know, in case you want to tag along."

Another silent moment, before an exasperated sigh, was heard from the other end.

"_Fine!_" and a short '_fuck_' was heard as the connection cut.

* * *

Chuuya wasted no time as he ran to his motorcycle. It was faster and made it easier to pass all the slowpokes on the road. He wondered if he should have told them that Dazai's father was back, but he had no idea how much they already knew. There was no time to explain.

Before starting his bike he suddenly remembered something. Another curse was whispered, as he ran back in to the house and retrieved a bag that he tucked safely in the compartment under the seat before he got on the bike and raced through the morning streets, feeling the fresh puddles of rainwater splash onto his calfs as he headed for that place that made his blood freeze. He just prayed (_nonono, _no_ way_)_ hoped_ it hadn't gotten out of hand.

* * *

In a different part of town, two more vehicles were speeding towards the Shinja Church. There was no way to know what they would see when they arrived. Atsushi sat in the back of Kunikida's car with Kyouka, as he usually did. Restless legs shook while worried eyes looked out the windows and no one spoke.

Ranpo sat in the passenger seat up front, while Kunikda was driving. Yosano drove the other car, with Kenji and Tanizaki.

They had to park their cars across the street at a parking lot. While they all ushered out of the vehicles, a red and black motorcycle spun past them, and the redheaded driver threw his helmet to the curb and ran to the fence that embraced the dilapidated building.

"Chuuya!" Kunikida yelled as the ran across the road.

The gate was once again chained up, and the short man furiously shook the gate before he started climbing. Kunikida quickly pulled out his notebook and drew some boltcutters that he used to clip the lock.

The gate creaked open with the startled mafia executive on top of it, clinging to it desperately while it slid to the side.

"Patience, my friend," Kenji smiled as they entered the property.

Chuuya gnarled something inaudible as he jumped off. Kunikida looked ready to open the door, but Chuuya fled up the few steps and stopped him.

"Wait," he gasped. Kunikida looked confused at him, as Chuuya let go of his tight grip of the tall man's arm.

"The doors were bolted shut the last time we were here," he said quietly. "There has definitely been someone in here since then. If it's..." how much should he actually tell them?

"Dazai's father?" Ranpo blurted out. Chuuya threw him a skeptical look.

"Do you already know?" he asked.

"No, we don't. It was an educated guess," Ranpo explained, looking a bit ashamed.

"Well, you're probably right. And if this is in fact what is going on, Dazai might be in very real danger," Chuuya explained. "Mori might be in there too. The leader of the Port Mafia."

"Why haven't you told us this befo-" Kunikida's nostrils dilated and his cheeks flushed, but he got interrupted by a dangerous stare from the small man.

"_Not the time_, sunshine!" Chuuya sneered. "We need to get a move on."

Chuuya had second thoughts, _'Shit, shit, shit, he's gonna hate me, he's gonna destroy me, completely obliviate me, he's gonna kill me...'_

But, he was already here. _And Dazai was in there._

He positioned himself to open the doors, and looked at the others, receiving a nod in return. They were ready.

The doors groaned loudly as they opened, and a deranged voice roamed through the voluminous room.

"Shower me in your light! I am nothing but a pawn. Please, listen to a _sinners chagrin_!"

The lights flickered, and the purple fog returned for the first time in twelve years.

Mori stood by the wall in the sanctuary, looking over to their newest arrivals with a satisfied grin.

Further down at the crossing, Dazai sat slumped on the stairs. He had been discarded of his hospital clothes and lay nearly bare except for the boxer shorts and bandages, half conscious.

A couple of feet from him, stood The Preacher with his hands reached out and eyes closed as the dark haze engulfed his son's body once again.

Dazai's weak body trembled, from fear or from pain. _Maybe both._ The convolutions he was far too familiar with had started, turned more violent and soon he lay limp on his side.

The earth stood still. No sound, no light, no movement, no nothing.

Until suddenly Dazai arched his broken back with a loud gasp, as the blackened fog exited from his mouth and transformed to an apparition in front of him.

The newly entered crowd stood paralyzed of the unbelievable sight. Not only was this an ability that none of them had ever seen or heard of, but it worked on Dazai. The shock was even bigger as the apparition turned more and more recognizable.

Even Mori was stunned.

_It was Dazai._

* * *

**(1) and (2): Gen'emon Tsushima was the name of the real Osamu Dazai's father, and Shuji was his own name before he was known as Osamu Dazai. (source: Wikipedia)**

**Please give the story a follow if you want to be notified when it's updated, and leave review/comment to let me know what you think!**

**I'm planning (at least) another two chapters, but as most of you probably know, it's usually the characters who decides what they want to do... I'm just trying to control the chaos.** **In the next chapter, things are going down!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I just realized that this story has reached 1000 readers on AO3! Crazy! And 100 kudos are right around the corner. I'm flabbergasted. Thank you so much! As a small celebration- I'm uploading a long chapter. A short update on my plans after finishing this fic will be provided at the end!**

* * *

The unison exclamations from the ADA alerted the Preacher of their presence as the surroundings of his display had calmed down.

"Ah, my worshipers have returned," the Preacher's voice echoed in the large room, gloating in front of the newly entered crowd. "Welcome back, my blessed herd."

"This preacher isn't like the one we have at home," Kenji said wearily.

"I can guarantee you that he is not," Chuuya grunted before taking a step forward.

"_Wait_, Chuuya, what are you-" Kunikida tried to hold him back. They needed to assess the situation and make a plan before they could proceed with any kind of attack. They had no idea what was going on, but he was blatantly ignored.

"Chuuya, I'm glad you finally arrived to the party," Mori's voice sung down the nave and gestured with his hand towards the scene in front of them. Chuuya walked resolutely over the carpeted aisle.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I only just heard from _this_ mötley crew that we had begun the final stages. You could have given me a call," he snarled irritably.

"Chu..." Atsushi whispered and reached his arm out to grab at Chuuya's jacket, but Kunikida's arm blocked him protectively, shaking his head at the teen.

"This is what's called _betrayal_, Atsushi. You might as well learn that now. You can never trust the mafia," Kunikida said darkly. "Especially not that _coward_," he sneered at Chuuya.

Chuuya stopped and looked back. Amused, he exhaled through his nose. "I would have thought that was the 101 of the Armed Detective Agency instruction manual."

His jacket swayed lightly behind him as he proceeded the walk, but stopped for a moment and watched Dazai's mangled form.

"I always imagined-" Dazai rasped, interrupted by a couple of weak coughs, "that I'd wait... for you by the alter as you walked down the aisle someday."

The redhead scoffed, and spit on the ground near Dazai, "_stuff it_, toothpick."

He gave a short nod to the Preacher, feeling sick by his mere presence, as he joined Elise in standing slightly behind Mori.

* * *

Dazai was bearly able to comprehend what was going on around him. He recognized the familiar fogginess and throbbing headache of a concussion as the gloomy room started to dance around in his vision.

_Chuuya is here too_, he thought but wasn't entirely sure if it was a good or a bad thing. Concussions were one of his least favorite things, it made him so dazed and confused.

But he couldn't help but smile. No matter how much his body pulsated with pain and his head hurt, or how the bile in his throat from the concussion-induced nausea was threatening to spill out, there was no denying the fact that he sat there- _face to face_ with his father's ability once again.

_That night in the belfry a couple of weeks ago finally made complete sense to him now_.

After first arriving at the Church- and before it all happened, he had a short black-out. When he came too, he thought he was having a vividly real flashback to one of his many horrifying days up there. It used to happen a lot when he was younger, to a point where he didn't know what was real or not anymore. It would only make sense that being back in that place would trigger all of that to come back.

Standing there in the belfry, looking down at his ten-year-old self, he felt the skin on his scarred back freeze. Every old wound came to life under their dressings, inflamed to a point where he could almost make out the words of damnation that had been carved into his shoulder blades, as he and himself looked deep into each other's eyes, there, inside of their torture chamber where the seed of what would become the monster that was Osamu Dazai, had first been planted.

But, the ghost of his past self seemed so _real_, he needed to be sure that it was- in fact- just his mind playing tricks on him. _It was almost as if he could reach out and touch it._

_That was when it launched itself at him_.

It wasn't more than a heavy push, but it was enough. The surprise of the attack made him tumble back, toppling over that same latch he had let himself fall from- twelve years ago.

_Yes, it really did make sense. He had always been his own worst enemy._

A forceful tugg at the bandages around his neck made him snap back to the moment. He could faintly hear his father's menacing laughter somewhere in the room, and some unclear and vague bickering even further away, but he was more intrigued by what he was holding in his hand._ Well, 'he' as in his father's ability_. What _his father's ability_ held in its hand.

_A knife._

A knife he knew very well. A wooden handle bearing a golden cross, and a needlepoint blade engraved with the words '_blows that wound, cleanses away evil_'. It was the very same knife that had penetrated his skin more times then any blade ever had (_and it was quite a few_) and written passages and sacrileges words amongst each other all over his body, that he had spent a lifetime trying to clean off by excessively washing his skin raw and bloody, before turning to more _ruthless_ methods.

His ten-year-old self placed the knife to his wrapped throat.

"Looks like you're finally going to be able to kill yourself," Mori chuckled, keeping his calm smile.

In a swift motion, it made the incision.

Droplets of blood slipped down Dazai's chest and his body got dropped to the floor.

The silence that ensued was nothing more than unnerving.

* * *

At the sight of The Preacher's ability, lashing out at Dazai's throat, made it seem like the world had stopped turning. The slightly dirtied bandages on Dazai's chest was quickly colored by the warm crimson red.

But, he was still moving. He lay folded in on himself, shoulders slightly trembling. His raspy and shallow breaths sounded exaggerated by the reverb of the church.

It was the only thing that could be heard until The Preacher hummed with satisfaction, walking behind his son and grasping the cut bandaging from around Dazai's throat, ripping it all the way off.

"Why are you hiding, my son?" he asked in a sickly soft voice and proceeded to grab a hold on Dazai's hair, yanking his head up, showcasing his unprotected throat.

"_No_..." Dazai's exasperated in an instant of panic, but couldn't prevent his shame from being exposed to the agency, nor to Chuuya.

The sides of Dazai's neck was covered in old and new scars from _burns, slashes, ropes, chains_ or _whatever_ _he could have gotten his hands on_ whenever the _urge_ would hit him, cutting mercilessly into the skin and leaving the grim reminders of his demons- _but that was the expected part._

What really paralyzed all the on-lookers, was the large inverted pentagram that had been sliced roughly into the skin, leaving a horrendously ugly scar.

"The boy with a soul as black as his eyes needs salvation," The Preacher told his 'congregation', a small crowd of stunned ADA agents. Dazai's face was twisted in pain and humiliation, or, _chagrin_.

"I know you _tried_, my son, I know you did. But you were never one of God's children. I should have known the day you were born. Your mother's body rejected you into the fifth month of her pregnancy. _The five points of the pentagram_. You weren't meant to be born into this world. I should never let the doctor resurrect you. The world was doomed the _second_ you drew your first breath. A breath of air that was _never meant for you_." He gave Dazai a swift kick in the back, making him fall over to his stomach.

Caught in the moment, no one had even realized that the apparition of Dazai had disappeared and the Preacher was holding the dagger. He let it slide up Dazai's back, making the bandages slide off his chest and abdomen. Then, he went on to his arms and legs.

Completely unraveled from the thin fabric that had been used as armor for Dazai his whole life, had come undone. All of the _wounds_, the _scarred words_ and _prayers_, and _religious symbols_, the _burns_ _from the rod_ and the ones that _Mori_ had left while he was undergoing training, _bite marks_ and _surgical scars_ and _stab wounds_ and _gunshot wounds_ and then the ones he had gotten from _battles_, and then there were the ones _inflicted by himself._

There was hardly an _inch_ of skin left on his body that hadn't been mutilated one war or another.

And now, he lay there, _bare_, feeling as naked and fragile as the day he was born. _The day he was also supposed to have died._

The day he took a place in the world never meant for him._ Overcrowding the planet all by himself._

At the exact moment the last thought entered his mind, a blurred force flung itself in an inhumane speed behind him.

The Preacher was hurled from his position behind Dazai and crashed into the stone wall several feet behind them.

_Tainted… Chuuya!_

Atsushi took advantage of the moment and ran for Dazai's aid, followed shortly by the rest of the agency.

"_Step away_!" Mori's voice roared and Elise innocently stepped in front of Dazai, preventing anyone from passing her.

_They would have tried if it wasn't for the fact that Mori had a gun pointed at Dazai's head._

The Preacher was pinned to the wall by tightly gripped gloved hands, and a thin streak of blood dripped from the back of his head as Chuuya growled intimidatingly at him.

"Do you have the preacher under control, Chuuya-kun?" he asked, not moving his gaze from Dazai.

"No problem," Chuuya smiled as he moved his forearm to press against the old man's throat.

Mori scoffed. "_Good,_" he mumbled under his breath, slowly stepping closer to Dazai, standing in front of him so he could see him.

Dazai struggled to keep his head up but did so to the best of his abilities. His head slowly drooping down from time to time, but watching and listening intently as Mori spoke.

"I don't think I've been more proud of anything I've ever accomplished, than what I made you," he told Dazai. "You were the perfect composition of _everything_. Of good and evil. Caring and violent. Apathetic and manic. _Alive and dead_... I know, I wasn't much of a father figure, but I truly did look upon you as my own flesh and blood. Some of the things I had to do to you, I-" he sighed. "I _truly_ didn't want to do."

Something in his eyes as he met Dazai's, looked sincere and contrite. Dazai wasn't able to respond at this time though. He had to keep his concentration of staying conscious. _He knew what was coming._

"That first day when I took you in after your very first suicide attempt… _Such a milestone_," he added jokingly. "I knew what you were. And what you were was-" he looked at the preacher. "_Yes_, a _demonic_ prodigy. A potentially truly great future executive of the port mafia. And I was right. I stayed up days on end to make sure you couldn't leave this world, because, _you were close_. Closer than I'd like to admit. _But_, you pulled through. Just like you have, _every time_. Yes, you truly _were_ my greatest achievement. And my _absolute biggest disappointment._" His finger lay resting on the trigger of the gun.

"I've spent many of nights, lying awake and thinking of the most effective way to _end_ you. I have quite a few good ideas, actually." Mori looked at his gun and shrugged. "This wasn't really one of them," he explained.

"_No_, they were more... _creative_. Because, _unfortunately_, you're like a cockroach. _Impossible to kill_. No matter how many times _you, I_ or _anyone else tries_ to- you just _won't_ stay dead!"

He took a deep breath. "_Just like your father_." Still pointing his gun at Dazai, he slowly moved closer. Elise was still keeping the ADA at bay, quickly reacting to any and all movements from the group.

Mori smirked. "_Now,_ _I want to finish what I started_."

He lowered his gun and carefully picked Dazai off the ground, helping him slowly to stand up.

Dazai moaned silently, losing his breath for a moment as the pain of the new positioning shot through his back. He leaned heavily against Mori's strong shoulders, dragging his injured leg as he was supported towards Chuuya and his father.

Mori gave Dazai the gun. "I think you deserve to finish it, _once and for all_."

Chuuya finally released his grip on the preacher, letting him slide down the wall, but being ready to intervene if he would regain his strength and try anything stupid.

Dazai accepted the gun and pointed it shakingly towards his father, who let out breathless pleads as he sat against the wall.

To everyone's surprise, Dazai lowered the gun. Even if it hurt, he took a deep breath and gave it back to Mori. No words were shared between the two, but they understood each other better than any of them would like to admit.

Mori aided Dazai carefully back to the floor, close to the preacher and Chuuya. Then, he walked back, picking up the dagger that the preacher had lost in the midst of Chuuya's attack and gave it to Dazai.

At that point, Dazai had forgotten all about anyone around him. _He only felt the weight of the knife in his hand._

With great difficulty, he dragged himself closer, repeating the words that was engraved on the knife again and again inside his mind, until he sat, leveled with his father and abuser, looking into his eyes.

He raised the dagger with the very last bit of strength he had in his body.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned," he said hoarsely in a voice as dead as his eyes. "I'm about to take a man of God's life... A man who has taken advantage of your name and abused the power you hold over your disciples. A man who killed his wife and several daughters, taking your place as the prosecutor, judge, and executor of what he deemed to be unworthy life... I stand before you as my father's son... _and his shadow weighs a ton_. So, please, do listen to a _fucking sinners chagrin_, and forgive me for the sin I'm about to commit."

Dazai thrust himself forward, unfeeling, uncaring and completely blinded by the immense power of rage and hate. The blood spatter didn't even register as he lunged the knife into the soft flesh of his father _again and again and again and again_\- until his body shut off, and he collapsed in a pool of his own and his father's blood, hyperventilating and unable to move.

Once again everything around him stopped making a single sound. He wasn't sure if there simply wasn't any, or if he had fainted.

His last hypothesis was proven wrong as he recognized Chuuya's legs, settling by his side, placing a bag in front of him.

He recognized the tan coat that was being retrieved from the bag. _Oda's coat- his coat_. Chuuya gently placed it over his shoulders, carefully helping Dazai to rest his head on the softness of the redhead's lap, reassuringly caressing his head.

"I'm _so_ sorry," he whispered in Dazai's ear. Several familiar voices morphing into nothing but unnecessary noise as Dazai closed his eyes.

An then, _he was unable to open them again._

* * *

**Oh wow. I think even I am a bit overwhelmed by this.**

**I do believe that the next chapter will be the last one of this story, and will be more of an epilog than anything else.**

**I was going to wait until I had finished this story completely to write about my upcoming projects, but I guess I'll do it now, as a small celebration of the first of my fics reaching 1000 visitors!**

**The plan, for now, is that it's going to be a series of one-shots based on the 'flashbacks' of Dazai's childhood that is being mentioned in this fic- from his time with his father in the church to his arrival at the ADA offices. As a teaser, I'd like to mention an idea I've been writing on about Dazai's mother that I've been really invested in, that just unfortunately never fitted into this story. It'll be disturbing af. **

**I would really like to gift/dedicate the upcoming work to Random-traveler(from ao3) who has been a loyal follower of this story since the start, and was the person providing this idea!**

**Thank you so- so much for reading and being awesome and giving feedback and fueling my inspiration!**

**Until next time- stay awesome!**


	13. Chapter 13

**This has been a really Dazai-centric fic, and I'm not really ready to finish it just yet... So I've written a chapter that is a bit more revolved around the agency's experience at the moment it all goes down in the previous chapter, as well as I'm kind of finishing up the main events to make room for a more light-hearted epilog.**

* * *

_All is dark. All is calm. All is good_.

The only thing he can hear is the muffled sound of his fellow agents getting to work around him, and the only thing he can feel is leather gloves carefully caressing the side of his face and occasionally swiping away the unmanagable bangs from his face.

_All is okay. All is over. _ All is well. _  
_

His father is dead. He knows. Not even a termite, like his old man, can withstand what had to be more than ten stabs to the head, and at least ten more to the chest. To be absolutely sure, he genuinely hopes that Mori will cut his head off and feed it to the pigs. Or better yet, _his heart_. You can never be too sure considering all the pestered animals that can keep on living without their heads. He'll let Mori dowhatever he wants to the body, as long as it's not burried beneath the same ground as his mother and sisters. He'll let Mori feed his sickest fantasies, just to make sure that the _motherfucker burns in hell._

All is still. _All is numb. All is dead._

* * *

Atsushi is stunned. With trembling knees, he's able to take one step before his legs buckle under his weight, but Yosano is quick to react and catches him before he can hit the ground. She's been keeping an eye out for all of their younger agents during the bloodied act, knowing fully that the sight before them would be overwhelming to anyone- and especially someone as inexperienced and impressionable as Atsushi.

Even if they all know about Dazai's past in the Port Mafia by now, Yosano (_and to an extent, Kyouka_) is probably the only ones who are capable of even nearly understanding what kind of measures Dazai has had to go through, to survive a lifestyle in the mafia that he did not choose for himself, but has been molded and broken into by callous hands.

The horrors he must have seen, as well as executed himself... from her own experience, she knows it's horrendous. And, him being a former executive, she can only begin to imagine how much worse he'd been through.

But he had been exposed to_ such cruel acts_ himself.

Until now, she was the only one in the agency who had seen the hideousness that had been done to his body underneath the bandages. It is nothing but evidence of a lifetime of torture.

But now, they have all seen it. What the mellow tempered jokester is hiding underneath the bandages.

Yosano got awakened from her thoughts as Atsushi ripped himself from her grip and ran out of the church. With that, she was reminded of the chaos around her. Her heart pulled her in one direction, wanting to make sure that Atsushi was okay, but a persistent Kunikda yelled for her assistance in the other.

"Kyouka," she started to say but needed not to say more. The petite girl ran after her friend- _probably a little relieved to get away from the situation._ Yosano made a mental note to talk to her later. This whole event probably brought back some very unpleasant memories for her too.

Yosano hurried and ran to Dazai's aid.

* * *

"Atsushi-kun?" Kyouka asked as softly as her already pleasant voice could muster, as she saw the boy huddled up and cradling himself right outside the door of the church. "Are you alright?"

Atsushi didn't answer, only grabbed his legs tighter and faintly shivered from the rain and sour wind.

"You should come back inside... I don't want you to get sick. They have covered the... body," she added.

"It's not that..." Atsushi finally answered. "I can take a dead body, Kyouka. I've seen blood and gore before. It's just..." he took a deep breath trying to make his voice sturdy. "I can't see Dazai like that. He's... he's supposed to be _unbreakable_, you know?"

Kyouka lowered her head. She knew, but she also _knew_. Knew a few things about the Port Mafia that Atsushi didn't. Things about Mori that anyone outside of the mafia would never know.

"You know," he chuckled, almost lightly, "once, he carried me all the way back to the infirmary after a really bad fight downtown. He had several broken ribs, a concussion, and a pretty bad knee injury. Yosano and Kunikida literally had to tackle him to the ground and tranquilize him to treat his injuries," Atsushi recalled bitterly. "Seeing him in such a vulnerable state right now..._ it's breaking my heart_. I just can't_ take it_. He's the closest thing to... maybe not a _father,_ but at least a big brother, or a cool uncle, that I've ever had." Atsushi bit his lip and added, "also, seeing how he just used the remains of his energy to execute such a brutal killing... looking completely and utterly... _unfeeling_ and _unfazed_ by it, sends shivers through my whole body. I'm not sure I know that person..."

A touch on the arm from Kyouka interrupts him. She looks keenly into his eyes With her piercing light blue ones.

"Please, Atsushi. There's a lot you don't understand about Dazai-sama. There's a lot_ none_ of us will ever understand. But, you saw the marks on his body and you heard what the preacher said. I'm not sure if any of us would have acted any other way if we were in his position."

Atsushi knew she was probably right. He knew if he was in the same desperate state of mind as Dazai had been in then and there, and been given the opportunity to show the staff at the orphanage the same kind of treatment that he was given- _he would._

Even so, he would need some time to process what he had just witnessed.

* * *

Kunikida hardly ever acted spontaneously. Obviously, even _he_ couldn't foresee every possible turn of events,_ but it wasn't for the lack of trying._

This entire day had been agonizingly out of his control, and as Dazai fell unconscious after the confrontation and savage killing of the preacher (_he wouldn't even give the man the acknowledgment of calling him Dazai's father_), he decided to give in to the moment, letting go of his analytic thought process and acting purely from instinct and heart.

_And his heart said to **screw everything** and get Dazai out of there alive._

Chuuya had already made it to Dazai. Kunikida could see him comforting and sheltering him, but wanted, all the same, to kick the vertically challenged Chucky look-a-like's face in for misusing his and his partner's trust.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded, reaching the two, hitting Chuuya's_ stupid_ hat off, just for his own satisfaction.

The redhead didn't even flinch and was more concerned with making Dazai comfortable despite his injuries.

"_I'm sorry,_" he whispered. Kunikida didn't know if he was referring to Dazai, him or the both of them._ Probably the ladder._ "I didn't know that Mori would let it go this far, but I should have. _He always takes it too far_."

Kunikida looked for the Port Mafia boss, but he had already disappeared.

'_That fucking coward_.'

He snapped his fingers and got the attention of Tanizaki and Kenji, as he noticed Yosano being held up with Atsushi.

"Please, if you're up to it, would you mind... trying to find something to cover the body with?" he asked quietly. Even with somewhat pallor looks, they both complied, probably relieved to get a task to distract themselves, even if it was a messy one.

He turned back to Chuuya and Dazai, only to realize that Dazai's face started to look strained, fusing into a tight grimace as his body gradually started trembling worse and worse.

"He's having a seizure!" Kunikida exclaimed and pushed a frozen Chuuya away, quickly turning Dazai on his side to clear his airways. "Yosano!"

* * *

The ambulance drove off with Dazai, accompanied by Yosano. Chuuya had redeemed himself a little by helping them to get rid of the body before anyone else would see it, as well as cleaning up the mess that had been made. They put their trust in Yosano to come up with some kind of story to explain Dazai's (_somewhat embarrassingly for both the ADA and the hospital_) _third_ disappearance (_sporting an external fixing device on his leg and a broken back_) from the hospital and the state they sent him back in.

"You have some explaining to do," Kunikida stated sternly at Chuuya, as they watched the ambulance drive off.

"I don't think I'm the right person to do that," he said simply, but couldn't hide the clear discomfort of being interrogated.

"Your _namby-pamby_ boss vanished out of the thin air. He didn't even stick around to make sure that Dazai was okay," Kunikida retorted sourly.

Chuuya smirked slightly, crossing his arms and started to walk towards his bike. "I don't mean Mori, Kunikida-kun."

At first, Kunikida was confused by the statement. He watched the back of the mafioso as he walked calmly away, but then it dawned upon him.

_Could Dazai already have known what was going to happen?_

_…_

_Of course, he could._

* * *

Dazai looked peaceful in spite of Atsushi's inability not to imagine the scars that lay hidden underneath his bandages. The third operation in just a little less than a month had taken its toll on his mentor, _and understandably so._

Atsushi didn't know if he would ever be able to look upon the man who, despite his many flaws- he had regarded as his hero, the same way _ever again_. He looked the same, but somehow, he felt _different._

Even so, he hadn't moved from his bedside since he'd been allowed into his room. The others from the agency had returned to the dorms to get some much-needed rest, but something inside of Chuuya's stomach had made him unable to leave Dazai there by himself.

Dazai twitched slightly in the bed. Atsushi automatically stood up, leaning towards the railings, watching intently as his mentor started to wake up.

Bewildered hands moved towards his face, trying to remove the intruding nasal cannula before his eyes had even opened.

"Uh, no, stop it. I think you need that," Atsushi said nervously, grabbing Dazai's hands and placed them gently back by his side.

"_So annoying_," Dazai sighed hoarsely, before falling back to sleep.

Atsushi smiled.

_Maybe Dazai was the same after all._

* * *

**I can't seem to stop torturing Dazai, but let's be honest, isn't that why we're here?**

**I said that this would be the epilog. I lied. Unknowingly. The next one will be. Probably.**

**Thank you so much for reading! The positive responses have been overwhelming! I've been a little uninspired lately, but hopefully, that will change very soon!**

**Stay awesome, folks!**


	14. Chapter 14

It was another week before Dazai was lucid and able to stay awake long enough to actually answer a couple of the many questions that Kunikida had written down in his book of Ideals(without scowling at the chair at his bedside and accusing it of judging him-_ Dazai really didn't react well to being medicated_), while Fukuzawa lingered in the back. Ranpo was there too as an observer and had gotten the task of calling out Dazai if he tried to bluff. Atsushi was there more as moral support.

Dazai sat propped up by pillows, wearing a metal back-brace, and his leg had finally been properly dressed in a hard cast. His head was bandaged after a couple of stitches to the back of the head, and Yosano had tried her best to replicate how he wore his bandages._ Old wounds, new wrappings._

Dazai sported his trademark crooked smile as Kunikida stared him down, waiting for the answer to his first question; _what the fuck?_

Dazai scoffed. "Yeah, I know, right?" He rolled his eyes wryly and shrugged his shoulders as mundane as could be. "Leave it to Dazai to be kidnapped by an old demented paranoid schizophrenic preacher." Dasai tsk' ed and shook his head in _such_ disappointment of himself.

Dazai's inability to take anything seriously enraged Kunikida more than he could put his words to, but he had to keep his temper under control if he wanted to avoid being kicked out of the room by Dazai's doctors, and keeping his ass from being kicked by Chuuya (or Atsushi for that matter, who was staring at him warningly).

Kunikida's dissatisfaction with him was clear as day, which Dazai obviously had expected.

"Stupid questions get stupid answers," he concluded, reaching his tongue out.

"To be fair, it was a pretty... vague question," Ranpo added.

"Don't you have some _glasses_ to polish?" Kunikida snapped back, receiving a mournful look from Ranpo, being reminded of the grave loss he had experienced when he couldn't figure out what was going on with Dazai.

"_Kunikida_..." Fukuzawa warned.

"I'm_ calm_!" … "Okay, I'm not calm." He took a deep breath and held it for ten seconds as he walked a couple of laps around the room.

"Dazai-kun, there's really no need to withhold any information anymore. We already know more than I know you would like us to... The only thing we really need to know is _why_," Fukuzawa said calmly.

Dazai's smile didn't stir, but there was something sad that shadowed over the usual twinkle in his eyes and dulled them considerably. He chuckled, but there was nothing humorous in it.

"Yeah, I-" He_ tried._ Something in him wanted to tell them _everything._ At least everything he knew or could remember. He really wanted to... _be understood._ He wanted them to know why he was the way he was. Why he couldn't express his feelings, because, it wasn't that he didn't want to express himself, he just _didn't know how_. Every emotion that once possibly had come naturally to him, he had been stripped off before he could even remember.

_No crying, no laughing, no smiling, no anger, no sadness, no happiness, no weakness, no fear, no love, no hope._

His stomach started to feel queasy and he realized that he had been glaring at his feet for way too long. They were all looking at him, With the expressions he knew was '_worried_', which,_ they_ probably could feel for real. All the while, he was still smiling, which was the _wrong expression_,

'fuck Dazai-stupid!'

He mentally swift through his "emotional library" and tried to fit his the situation with his facial expression, but it was_ all too much_ and_ his stomach was feeling bilious _and the feelings that he_ did have, that he had no control over, _completely _overturned him_ as his heart started to race and the bile was halfway up his throat.

Panic.

A feeling that turned physical, that he couldn't _wean_, only_ hide._

What happened next, he didn't know if was a blessing or a curse. _But vomiting, he didn't need to fake_. That came naturally.

He threw up all over the bed, panting with raspy breaths in a mix of discomfort and pain between the dry-heaves, as Atsushi tried to keep a straight face while stroking his back and Fukuzawa ordered Kunikida to do- _something_\- Dazai didn't hear, didn't care, as Kunikida ran out of the room.

* * *

The following hour went by with a bath and a change of rooms. Dazai was reminded of how much of a pain in the ass it was to get clean with a cast on, and he tried his hardest not to react to notice the way the male nurse who was helping him, watched his bare skin as he undressed the bile-covered bandages with that compassionate and surprised look they always got. He was so, _so_ sick of it. Wished he could crawl out of his skin, shed it like a snake, and rid himself of it once and for all.

* * *

All the fuzz had made him tired, as well as the strong pain medication he had gotten when they had to move him around as much as they had to. His co-workers had left, but he knew they'd be back tomorrow to try again to get the answers they wanted, probably armed with barf bags.

Dazai didn't know how he was going to be able to tell them, rubbing his face with frustration, as he heard a strange knock on the window.

_It could only be one person, as his new room was on the fifth floor._

Dazai's bed was placed next to the window by his own request, and he pulled the curtain away and cracked the window open, letting Chuuya manipulate the gravity to pull the security lock open and climbing in.

"There's a perfectly fine door over there, you know," Dazai said tiredly.

"The receptionist told me visiting hours were over," Chuuya answered nonchalantly and very carefully crawled over the bed- to not repeat the disastrous 'butt-to-fracture' action he had caused a couple of weeks ago. "Also, you know I have a love for the dramatics."

Dazai smiled, _for real_. Chuuya could sometimes bring that out of him, which he appreciated.

It made him think...

"Chuuya, I need to ask you something."

"No Dazai, the hospital gown doesn't make your ass look fat," he sighed jokingly, looking in the mirror that was placed over a sink on the other side of the room, fixing a couple of stray hairs that had gotten loose from his pony-tail on his way up the side of the hospital.

"I know. I have a bony ass. You've_ told_ me," Dazai said exasperated. _Maybe Chuuya wasn't the right person to talk about this with after all._

Chuuya seemed to sense Dazai's tension and regretted his ill-timed joke. "I'm sorry," he said and turned back to Dazai. "Are you okay? Kunikida messaged me about the incident with your... stomach contents."

Dazai's lips twisted into a slightly curved smile. "You and Kunikida-kun seem to message each other a lot recently," he commented, acting hurt.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to have joint custody of a twenty-two-year-old." Chuuya placed a chair next to Dazai's bed and sat down. "So, _Dazai-chan_," he said softly in a slightly higher pitch as if he was talking to a child, receiving a tired smile from Dazai, and returning the smile calmly.

"What's going on?" he said, changed back to normal. Or, maybe a bit nicer than his_ normal,_ normal.

Dazai seemed to search for his words.

"I think- I think you are my oldest friend," he started. Chuuya's arched an eyebrow.

"I also think that, _except for Mori_, you're the person who knows the most about me, and... the stuff that has happened, you know, before..."

Chuuya nodded, unable to look Dazai in the eyes, knowing that Dazai probably looked the other way too. When Dazai didn't continue, Chuuya assumed he was stuck.

"Kunikida also told me that you blanked out..." he told him, realizing without much effort that there had to be a conection between Dazai's sudden sentimental statements and the events that had unfolded earlier that day.

"Yeah, I guess I did. Chu... I-I don't know why it happened. I actually wanted to tell them everything. Is that weird?" He looked on the other with genuinly questioning eyes.

"If you're referring to blanking out to the point that you puke- _yeah_,_ a bit_. But, about letting your friends know what's been going on with you? _No_. Not at all. I think it'd be good for you to tell them."

"I couldn't. It felt like it got caught in my throat and when it finally got it loose- it came out as_ bile_."

Chuuya sneered. "Well, I guess the imagery is pretty accurate."

Dazai only hummed in response, and leaned back in the bed, watching the city outside of his room.

They sat like that in silence for a little while, both reflecting on the years that had led up to this moment, where they were finally able to sit by each other's side as_ friends_ again, somewhat _fucked up and complicated_ friends, but, there was nothing that_ wasn't fucked up and complicated_ with_ anything_ in their lives.

"Maybe you could write it down," Chuuya suddenly said.

"Huh?" Dazai turned to face him again, confused and weary.

"Write it down, what you want to tell them. If you're not comfortable with saying it... without _sprayin_g it," Chuuya looked _way_ too smug about his own joke, "then maybe you'll be able to write it down."

Dazai grimaced. "I'm on a sick-leave for another 6 to 8 weeks. I don't want to write a report. Also, you know my handwriting looks like chicken-shit."

"Yeah, you don't have to remind me. I'm sure you remember who wrote all of our hand-written reports for three years. But, it's not going to be like a report. It might actually put some weight off your back, and you only have to write what you want to write. I can bring you your laptop tomorrow."

Dazai thought about it for a second. Then, he looked back up at Chuuya with an undecipherable smile and gave a faint nod.

"Yeah, that's- that's actually a good idea."

* * *

The next day, before lunch, Fukuzawa was a little surprised to find an email from Dazai in his inbox. Even though the title said "DO YOU WANT TO INCREASE YOUR PENIS SIZE BY 51%?! WE HAVE AN INSANE OFFER FOR YOU!" he decided to open it. His anti-virus program was pretty air-tight, after all.

Also, he knew Dazai.

_I am sorry about yesterday. I can't seem to actually talk about this whole mess, even if I kinda want to. So, I'm going to try to write it all down instead. Please tell Atsushi that I truly am sorry for puking on his shirt, and to Kyouka, who probably will have to clean it. And to you, Fukuzawa-senpai, if you're insecure about the size of your manhood. _(Fukuzawa edited this part out of the email before printing it out).

_I don't know my father's real name. I've only ever called him Father. Neither do I know my mother's real name, but my father told me to call her Yariman. -Slut._

_She died when I was eight. I also had two older sisters, which both died before I was born. Father only wanted a son. They are buried with my mother under unmarked graves in the Shinja graveyard, I've never known where._

_Much of the events of my early life are not relevant to the case. I might be ready to share some of it with you someday, but not today. What is relevant, is that Father's ability is called A Sinners Chagrin. As you might have guessed, it's the ability to make anyone's greatest fear appear before them. He spent most of my childhood making sure that my greatest fear was of God. Which it was, for a long time. A child's mind is easy to corrupt, and his ability started in the form of a generic boogyman and slowly turned in to my own depiction of God. After that, he was able to prove all his horrifying tales of what God would do to me, as he manipulated his ability to do just that._

_(Fukuzawa: I ask that you are the only one who reads this next paragraph and that you remove it before anyone else can read it)._

_I'm sure the question all of you are dying to know the answer to, is how he was able to use his ability on me, and I'm afraid that the answer isn't as exciting or spectacular as you might think. It's simply because I'm afraid. And when I'm afraid, my body shuts down and disassociates, which apparently leaves me open for attack. I have never experienced it with anyone else but Father, but then again, he is the only one that has ever made me truly scared. Except for myself, apparently- considering the latest form of Father's ability. No idea how that happened... Nope. Guess that one will remain a mystery._

_As you probably understand, this is information that leaves me in a pretty vulnerable position if fallen in to the wrong hands, which is why I ask that no one else reads it._

_(…)_

_(Baha! I just explained to Fukuzawa why Father's ability works on me and asked him to delete it before any of you scavengers can read it, suckaaaas)!_

_I guess where to go next is how I came about to join the Port Mafia. I have my suspicions that there is a little more to the story than I know for sure, but anything other then what I can actually recall will be speculations._

_As Father was able to make 'God' appear by using me, he started to do exclusive performances to the elite of the extremist Christian societies around Japan. You all saw what the man had become- a deranged and utterly useless preacher that actually believed his ability yo be a miracle, but he didn't start that way. He was a con-man. He knew what he was doing from the day he started doing it._

_Sure, some of the pure insanity was there from the start (runs in the family I guess- so don't come for me), he did kill his wife and two daughters after all. I'm not an expert on family dynamics or anything, but I'm pretty sure that_ that_ is a kind of thing that isn't supposed to happen in the stereotypical nuclear family._

_Anyway, the former main physician- turned boss of the Port Mafia, Ougai Mori, somehow got a whiff of Father, and decided to arrange a showcase of his "ability to make God appear" in front of the former boss, with the pretense of recruiting him. I was ten at the time and had recently started to develop some issues with Father's ramblings of how there was nothing worse than the wrath of God, which I guess somehow had been a pretty big part of for my entire life at the time._

_We did our usual shtick, and, I screwed up. I had no fear of his 'God' anymore, but I _did_ have a great fear of _him_. Father._

_The pain he had caused me was very real and very much caused by him and him alone. So, that was who showed himself that day, and ruined everything for him._

_I don't know what happened the next hours. I have no recollection of it what so ever, until I awoke in the belfry the next day and let myself drop to the ground._

_I have never tried to hide my wish of dying. This was the day I first tried actively to make that happen. The day I decided that I wanted it to happen by my own hands._

_As I am writing this, it won't come as a surprise to any of you that I failed. Whatever happened the next couple of days are as defuse to me as what happened the hours before. I woke up in Mori's care and stayed there for a very long time. He told me during that time, that I did not need to worry about Father anymore, and later told me that he was dead. Clearly, he was wrong._

_One thing that both Father and Mori both had in common, was the fact that their goal was to make me unable to feel _anything_. Not physically (far from it), but emotionally. This is the reason I am writing this. Because as much as (this is hard for me to even write) I know I have_ overcome_, the part of real emotion is one thing that I _can not_..._

_I'm sorry. I just don't know. I can't._

_(Chuuya is threatening me with releasing a video of me while I was going through puberty online if I don't leave that last part, and I just realized that severe self-consciousness is a feeling I have gotten back)._

_The Port Mafia trained me to be a numb pawn purely made for withstanding torture without giving in, and killing. That is my design. What I am. Or was. I don't know._

_That leaves me to address what happened the night I was injured, when this whole mess started._

_During the night (I actually do sleep sometimes), a letter was slid through the crack under the door of my room at the dorms. If you want to see it, you can, but in short terms, it said that he was back, and wanted me to come back to him. I don't know what made me go- the feeling of terror I guess (another feeling I guess still lingers). So I did. I was instructed to go to the belfry, so I also did. I blacked out, and I didn't understand what had actually happened until that day we were all in Shinja. He had used his power, and as it took the form of myself at ten years old- I did get scared. I didn't think it was real, which was my mistake._

_I told everyone that I was pushed off the tower, which I was, technically. I pushed myself off. I don't know if that counts as another suicide attempt, but that is what happened._

_…leave it to Dazai to be a suicidal maniac while trying to survive an attempted murder on himself, committed by himself._

_And I think you all kinda know what's been going on after that. Except that- yeah, I did know what Mori was planning. I also knew that Chuuya was in on it. But don't tell Chuuya._

_(Chuuya just hit me)._

_(and he told me not to write that, so I did). Fuck you, Chuuya._

_I'm going to finish this off with a request that the contents of this letter are never to be read out loud._

_Whoever within the Agency that wants to read it can read it, but after that, it is to be burned and never spoken of again. I don't want to know who reads it, and I don't want to see traces of its content in any of your eyes. I'm still shitty-Dazai, bandage-waisting-device, the office slacker and an annoying piece of shit._

_I hope this answers all of your questions, Kunikida. This is the best answer I could make of 'what the fuck?'_

* * *

Within the next hour that Kunikida read Dazai's letter, he stood by his bedside. Dazai was apprehensive, as the stern man walked steadily to his side.

The first time Kunikida actually believed that Dazai relaxed, was the first time he ever hugged him.

"Dazai, you are so, so,_ so wrong._ You feel plenty. I know you don't understand it, but you do. _You are a good human being."_

Somehow, Dazai did believe it. Even if it wasn't true, _really. _But, if Kunikida believed it- he wouldn't prove him otherwise.

* * *

** Woaaaah! It's done! It's done, it's done, it's done! I hope I covered everything.**

**Thank you all so, so much for reading! It's been such a fun story to write, and I have been exited for your reactions every time I've posted an update! I have however edited the controversial fifth chapter, (the word kiss might have been changed to slap)- so feel free to share your thoughts on that too!**

**I'm not sure when the upcoming series will be up- but I'm going to start working on it shortly! Remember to leave any suggestions or wishes in the comments (about the series or whatever else you want to read)- and I'll do my best!**

**Until next time- Stay awesome!**


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